ith was still
sore from the treatment he had received in one or two offices
that morning.

"I have not been successful," he said, "and I felt sure that I should
be. I have discovered that people here are very much like people
elsewhere; they are very like sheep."

"And very suspicious, timid sheep at that," said Norman "They have
often gone for wool and got shorn. So every one has to be tested. An
unknown man has a hard time here. I suppose they would not look into
your plan?"

"They classed me with 'pedlers, book-agents, and beggars'--I saw the
signs up; looked as if they thought I was a thief. I am not used to
being treated like a swindler."

"The same old Keith! You must remember how many swindlers they have to
deal with, my boy. It is natural that they should require a guarantee--I
mean an introduction of some kind. You remember what one of them said
not long ago? 'A man spends one part of his life making a fortune and
the rest of it trying to keep others from stealing it from him.' You
ought to have come to me. You must come and dine with me this evening,
and we will talk it over. Perhaps, I can help you. I want to show you my
little home, and I have the finest boy in the world."

At the tone of cordial sincerity in his voice, Keith softened. He laid
his hand on the back of Norman's and closed it tightly.

"I knew I could always count on you, and I meant, of course, to come and
see you. The reason I have not come before I will explain to you
sometime. I was feeling a little sore over a matter--sheer lies that
some one has written." He shook the newspaper in his hand.

"Oh, don't mind that paper," said Norman. "The columns of that paper are
for hire. They belong at present to an old acquaintance of ours. They do
_me_ the honor to pay their compliments to my affairs now and then."

Keith walked up the street with a warm feeling about his heart. That
friendly face and kindly pressure of the hand had cheered him like
sunshine in a wintry day, and transformed the cold, cheerless city into
an abode of life and happiness. The crowds that thronged by him once
more took on interest for him. The faces once more softened into human
fellowship.

That evening, when Keith arrived at Norman Wentworth's, he found that
what he had termed his "little house" was, in fact, a very ample and
commodious mansion on one of the most fashionable avenues in the city.
Outside there was nothing to distinguish it particularly from the