“Yes, air.”

“You haven’t changed your mind, then?—­You still want to be a printer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have left the Professor, I suppose.”

“I left him yesterday.”

“What did he pay you?”

“Five dollars a week.  He offered me six, if I would stay with him.”

“Of course you know that I can’t pay you any such wages at present.”

“Yes, sir.  You agreed to give me my board the first month, and two dollars a week for six months afterward.”

“That is all you will be worth to me at first.  It is a good deal less than you would earn with Professor Henderson.”

“I know that, sir; but I am willing to come for that.”

“Good.  I see you are in earnest about printing, and that is a good sign.  I wanted you to understand just what you had to expect, so that you need not be disappointed.”

“I sha’n’t be disappointed, sir,” said Harry confidently.  “I have made up my mind to be a printer, and if you didn’t receive me into your office, I would try to get in somewhere else.”

“Then no more need be said.  When do you want to begin?”

“I am ready any time.”

“Where is your trunk?”

“At the tavern.”

“You can have it brought over to my house whenever you please.  The hotel-keeper will send it over for you.  He is our expressman.  Come into the house now, and I will introduce you to my wife.”

The editor’s home was just across the street from his printing office.  Followed by Harry he crossed the street, opened the front door, and led the way into the sitting-room, where a pleasant-looking lady of middle age was seated.

“My dear,” he said, “I bring you a new boarder.”

She looked at Harry inquiringly.

“This young man,” her husband explained, “is going into the office to learn printing.  I have taken a contract to make a second Benjamin Franklin of him.”

“Then you’ll do more for him than you have been able to do for yourself,” said Mrs. Anderson, smiling.

“You are inclined to be severe, Mrs. Anderson, but I fear you are correct.  However, I can be like a guide-post, which points the way which it does not travel.  Can you show Harry Walton—­for that is his name—­where you propose to put him?”

“I am afraid I must give you a room in the attic,” said Mrs. Anderson.  “Our house is small, and all the chambers on the second floor are occupied.”

“I am not at all particular,” said Harry.  “I have not been accustomed to elegant accommodations.”

“If you will follow me upstairs, I will show you your room.”

Pausing on the third landing, Mrs. Anderson found the door of a small but comfortable bed-room.  There was no carpet on the floor, but it was painted yellow, and scrupulously clean.  A bed, two chairs, a bureau and wash-stand completed the list of furniture.