have to sit always within the reach of
his critical eyes.

"Good morning. You have not forgotten, I see: that's well," Mr. Gregory
said, as he hung up his coat and pulled off his gloves. Then, with a
quick glance at his table, he added, "You may go on with your work."

Bertie copied industriously for an hour, never raising his head from his
desk; then his master's voice startled him. "Come here, Bertie. I want
some conversation with you. How old are you?"

"Nearly thirteen, sir."

"You look more. Do you like business?"

"I think I do, sir. I shall like it more when I understand it better."

"Quite so. Now, Bertie, because you are my nephew, and have been a good,
steady lad, I am going to place you in a position of great trust. You
are quick, and write a good hand, and I shall train you to be my private
secretary. You shall answer all my business letters, from my dictation.
Of course I don't mean all my letters," catching Bertie's nervous glance
at the table, "only those I have been in the habit of attending to
myself. It means several changes: one is, you need not get here till I
do in the morning; another is, that I shall require your services for an
hour or two every evening in the library at Gore House. You can leave
here at four instead of half-past five, and I wish you to take lessons
in French and German three times a week. I have engaged a master for
you, and you can leave here every other day at half-past three. I will
pay you twelve shillings a week, out of which you must pay for your
luncheon, and you will dine with us, except when there is a large
party. Now sit down, and write exactly as I tell you, and as quickly, as
neatly, and accurately as you can."

"Yes, uncle; thank you," Bertie replied, his heart throbbing violently.
That was indeed a change from the dull routine of the past five months:
he had won his uncle's confidence; he was to have no more solitary
evenings; and, best of all, he was to have a salary, and only luncheon
to buy out of it.

"Why, I shall only want a Bath bun and a glass of milk every day. I can
save nearly all," Bertie whispered to himself at luncheon-time. "Uncle
Gregory is good to me, and no mistake!"

Mr. Gregory was good to his nephew, but not before he had thoroughly
satisfied himself that the boy fully deserved his confidence, and, what
was more, would fully and amply repay it. That twelve shillings a week
was a master-stroke of policy, for it made Bertie eternally