"Haven't you got on, though? Here I find
you the trusted bookkeeper of an important
business firm. Did you bring recommendations
from your last place?" and he burst into
a loud guffaw.
"I wish you wouldn't make such
references," snapped Gibbon. "They can do no
good, and might do harm."
"Don't be angry, my dear boy. I rejoice
at your good fortune. Wish I was equally
well fixed. You don't ask how I am getting on."
"I hope you are prosperous," said Gibbon, coldly.
"I might be more so. Is there a place vacant
in your office?"
"No."
"And if there were, you might not recommend me, eh?"
"There is no need to speak of that. There is no vacancy."
"Upon my word, I wish there were, as I am getting to
the end of my tether. I may have money enough to last
me four weeks longer, but no more."
"I don't see how I can help you," said Gibbon.
"How much salary does Mr. Jennings pay you?"
"A hundred dollars a month," answered the
bookkeeper, reluctantly.
"Not bad, in a cheap place like this."
"It takes all I make to pay expenses."
"I remember--you have a wife. I have no
such incumbrance."
"There is one question I would like to ask you,"
said the bookkeeper.
"Fire away, dear boy. Have you an extra cigar?"
"Here is one,"
"Thanks. Now I shall be comfortable. Go ahead
with your question."
"What brought you to Milford? You didn't
know of my being here, you say."
"Neither did I. I came on my old business."
"What?"
"I heard there was a rich manufacturer here
--I allude to your respected employer.
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