For a minute the two men continued in conversation.  Mr. Conway called up pleasant reminiscences of “Aunt Martha,” his boy-life on the farm, and the peace and stillness of the country town.  He thought a railway ride of a hundred miles must be quite a hardship for a quiet old man.  “It was a long way for you,” he said, “Did you have a comfortable journey?”

“Well, I can’t quite say that.  First, the stage broke down and delayed me.  Then I slept in the cars, and a boy played a trick on me, and waked me up, and made me get out at the wrong station, so I had to stay over nigh in Whipple Village.  To tell the truth I had a great deal of worriment with one thing and another, getting here; but it’s all right now,” he added, with a radiant face.

[Illustration:  “Is this the boy who lied to you?”]

“You shall go with me to my house and rest, as soon as I have dismissed these boys,” said Mr. Conway, earnestly; and turning to Albert and Lyman, who anxiously waited, he spoke to them about their errand.

“I suppose you came because you saw my advertisement?”

“Yes, sir,” replied both, simultaneously.

“Very well.  I believe you came in first,” he began, turning to Albert.  “What is your name?”

“I am Albert Gregory, sir.  I think I can suit you.  I’ve brought testimonials of ability and character from some of the first men—­Esq.  Jenks, Rev. Joseph Lee, Dr. Henshaw, and others.  Here are my letters of recommendation,” holding them out for Mr. Conway to take.

“I don’t care to see them,” returned the merchant, coldly.  “I have seen you before.  I understand your character well enough for the present.”

He then addressed a few words to Lyman Dean.

“I should be very glad of work,” said Lyman.  “My mother is poor, and I want to earn my living, but I haven’t any testimonials.”

“Yes, you have,” said old Mr. Randal, who was waiting for an opportunity to say that very thing.  And then he told the merchant how polite and helpful Lyman had been to him.

Mr. Conway fixed his eyes severely upon the other boy.  The contrast between him and young Dean was certainly worth a lesson.

“Albert Gregory,” said the merchant, “I occupied the seat in the car in front of you last evening.  I heard you exultingly and wickedly boasting how you had deceived a distressed and helpless old man.  Mr. Randal, is this the boy who lied to you, and caused you to get out at the wrong station?”

“I declare!  Now I do remember him.  It is!  I’m sure it is,” exclaimed the old gentleman, fixing his earnest eyes full upon the crimson face of the young man.

It was useless for Albert to attempt any vindication of himself.  His stammered excuses stuck in his throat, and he was glad to hide his mortification by an early escape.  Crestfallen, he slunk away, taking all his “testimonials” with him.

“Lyman,” said Mr. Conway kindly, “I shall be very glad to employ you in my store.  You shall have good pay if you do well, and I am sure you will.  You may begin work at once.”