He then went round to his miserable quarters, in the top of a cheap lodging-house, and prepared himself at once to go and see his mother.  He could not afford to ride, and it was a long walk,—­at least five miles to the place where his mother was nursing.

On the following Monday, Bert, having a leisure hour, went to call on his new acquaintance in Devonshire street.

Having climbed the two nights, he found the door of the back room at the right ajar, and, looking in, saw Mr. Crooker at a desk, in the act of receiving a roll of money from a well-dressed visitor.

Bert entered unnoticed, and waited till the money was counted and a receipt signed.  Then, as the visitor departed, Mr. Crooker noticed the lad, offered him a chair, and then turned to place the money in the safe.

[Illustration:  “He saw Mr. Crooker receiving a roll of money.”]

“So this is your place of business?” said Bert, glancing about the plain office room.  “What do you do here?”

“I buy real estate, sometimes—­sell—­rent—­and so forth.”

“Who for?” asked Bert.

“For myself,” said the old gentleman, with a smile.

Bert started, perfectly aghast, at this situation.  This, then, was the man whom he had invited to dinner and treated so patronizingly the preceding Thursday!

“I—­I—­I thought—­you were a poor man!”

“I am a poor man,” said Mr. Crooker, locking his safe.  “Money doesn’t make a man rich.  I’ve money enough.  I own houses in the city.  They give me something to think of, and so keep me alive.  I had truer riches once, but I lost them long ago.”

From the way the old man’s voice trembled and eyes glistened, Bert thought he must have meant by these riches, the friends he had lost, wife and children, perhaps.

“To think of me inviting you to dinner!” he said, abashed and ashamed.

“It was odd.  But it may turn out to have been a lucky circumstance for both of us.  I like you.  I believe in you, and I’ve an offer to make you.  I want a trusty, bright boy in this office, somebody I can bring up to my business, and leave it with, as I get too old to attend to it myself.  What do you say?”

What could Bert say?

Again that afternoon he walked—­or rather ran—­to his mother; and, after consulting with her, joyfully accepted Mr. Crooker’s offer.

Interviews between his mother and his employer followed.  The lonely, childless old man, who owned so many houses, wanted a home; and one of these houses he offered to Mrs. Hampton, with ample support for herself and children if she would also make it a home for him.

Of course this proposition was accepted; and Bert soon had the satisfaction of seeing the great ambition of his life accomplished.  He had employment, which promised to become a profitable business, as indeed it did in a few years.  The old man and the lad proved useful to each other; and, more than that, he was united once more with his mother and sisters in a happy home, where he has since had many Thanksgiving dinners.