“When I come home, after havin’ stuck up six thousand bills in the principal towns and villages along the route, I went right to Mr. Fink.  He shook hands with me, and ses he, ‘Bog, your fortun’s made.’  ’How’s that?’ said I.  ’Why, ses he, ’you’re the greatest bill poster I ever heerd of.  Professor Macfuddle” (that was the hair-dye man) “ses the money has begun to pour in to him like sixty, and he is buyin’ up all the hair dye in the market, and puttin’ his labils on it to supply the demand.  He has given me ten dollars to present to you, besides the thirty for your wages.’  Mr. Fink then give me forty dollars, and ses he, ’That a’n’t all; for I have so much business now, I want a pardner, and I’ll take you, and give you one third of the earnin’s.’  I rather guess I snapped at the offer; and we is goin’ into pardnership to-morrer.”

“Success to you,” said Marcus and the inventor together.  They saw, in this illustration of his bill-posting talents, only an evidence of business shrewdness that deserved encouragement.  The young girl, however, viewed it in the light of a violation of law, and therefore could not conscientiously approve of it.  Bog noticed her silence, and guessed the cause.

“Thank you very much,” said he; “but I forgot to say I a’n’t goin’ to do any more business on the Erie plan.  It a’n’t right.  Come to think it over, I was sorry I done it; and so I told Mr. Fink; and he sed it wasn’t exackly reg’lar either, and he shouldn’t never ask me to do it agen.”

“I am glad of that,” said Pet, quietly.

Bog’s eyes were instantly turned toward her with an expression of pride and gratitude.

“Oh! of course, it is always best to obey the laws,” observed Mr. Minford.

“And I wouldn’t for a moment be thought to advise anything else,” added Marcus Wilkeson; “though I never could help admiring pluck and sharpness in business affairs.”

“I am going to school again, Bog,” said the young girl, hastening to change the subject of conversation.

Bog looked up, surprised and pleased.

“Mr. Wilkeson,” said Mr. Minford, “has taken another small share in my invention, and pays me in advance for it.  With that, Pet will finish her education.”  The inventor would have made this disclosure of his private affairs to no other human being but Bog; for this simple boy was the only person he had ever known (excepting Marcus Wilkeson) who had not openly ridiculed his mysterious labors.

“I am very glad to hear of it, sir,” said Bog, awkwardly, but with an air of profound respect.  “How—­how is the masheen, sir?” Bog asked the question hurriedly, as if the machine were a sick person, whose health he had until then forgotten to inquire after.

“Getting on finely, Bog.  Only two or three springs, a cog here, a ratchet here, a band at this point, and a lever up there (Mr. Minford touched portions of the machine rapidly), and then look out for a noise!”