you waiting any
longer than I can help. What have you given us to-day, Hannah?"

"Roast beef," answered Hannah in her deep tones.

"There is nothing better."

The host cut off a liberal slice for Carl, and passed the plate to
Hannah, who supplied potatoes, peas and squash. Carl's mouth fairly
watered as he watched the hospitable preparations for his refreshment.

"I never trouble myself about what we are to have on the table," said
Mr. Jennings. "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."

The bookkeeper rapidly scanned Carl's face and figure. It seemed to Carl
that the scrutiny was not a friendly one.

"I am glad to see you," said Mr. Gibbon, coldly.

"Thank you, sir."

"By the way, Mr. Jennings," said the bookkeeper, "I have a favor to ask
of you."

"Go on, Mr. Gibbon," rejoined his employer, in a cordial tone.

"Two months since you gave my nephew, Leonard Craig, a place in the
factory."

"Yes; I remember."

"I don't think the work agrees with him."

"He seemed