ing. "I haven't got so far along
as that."

"Mr. Anderson's last apprentice--he is a journeyman now--was a
smoker. He not only scented up the room, but as he was very careless
about lights, I was continually alarmed lest he should set the house
on fire. Finally, I got so nervous that I asked him to board
somewhere else."

"Is he working for Mr. Anderson now?"

"Yes; you probably saw him in the office."

"I saw two young men at the case."

"The one I speak of is the youngest. His name is John Clapp."

"There is no danger of my smoking. I don't think it would do me any
good. Besides, it is expensive, and I can't afford it."

"I see we think alike," said Mrs. Anderson, smiling. "I am sure we
will get along well together."

"I shall try not to give you any trouble," said our hero, and his
tone, which was evidently sincere, impressed Mrs. Anderson still more
favorably.

"You won't find me very hard to suit, I hope. I suppose you will be
here to supper?"

"If it will he quite convenient. My trunk is at the tavern, and I
could stay there till morning, if you wished."

"Oh, no, come at once. Take possession of the room now, if you like,
and leave an order to have your trunk brought here."

"Thank you. What is your hour for supper?"

"Half-past five."

"Thank you. I will go over and speak to Mr. Anderson a minute."

The editor looked up as Harry reappeared.

"Well, have you settled arrangements with Mrs. Anderson?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, I believe so."

"I hope you like your room."

"It is very comfortable. It won't take me long to feel at home
there."

"Did she ask you whether you smoked?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought she would. That's where Clapp and she fell out."

Harry's attention was drawn to a thin, sallow young man of about
twenty, who stood at a case on the opposite side of the room.

"Mrs. Anderson was afraid I would set the house on fire," said the
young man thus referred to.

"Yes, she felt nervous about it. However, it is not surprising. An
uncle of hers lost his house in that way. I suppose you don't smoke,
Walton?"

"No, sir."

"Clapp smokes for his health. You see how stout and robust he is,"
said the editor, a little satirically.

"It doesn't do me any harm," said Clapp, a little testily.

"Oh, well, I don't interfere with you, though I think you would be
better off if you should give up the habit. Ferguson don't smoke."

This was the other compositor, a ma