“The money which you so considerately inclose comes at the right time.  Your brother needs some new clothes, and this will enable me to provide them.  We all send love, and hope to hear from you often.

  “Your affectionate father,
    “Hiram Walton.”

Harry’s promotion took place just before the beginning of September.  During the next week the fall term of the Prescott Academy commenced, and the village streets again became lively with returning students.  Harry was busy at the case, when Oscar Vincent entered the printing office, and greeted him warmly.

“How are you, Oscar?” said Harry, his face lighting up with pleasure.  “I am glad to see you back.  I would shake hands, but I am afraid you wouldn’t like it,” and Harry displayed his hands soiled with printer’s ink.

“Well, we’ll shake hands in spirit, then, Harry.  How have you passed the time?”

“I have been very busy, Oscar.”

“And I have been very lazy.  I have scarcely opened a book, that is, a study-book, during the vacation.  How much have you done in French?”

“I have nearly finished Telemachus.”

“You have!  Then you have done splendidly.  By the way, Harry, I received the paper you sent, containing your essay.  It does you credit, my boy.”

Mr. Anderson, who was sitting at his desk, caught the last words.

“What is that, Harry?” he asked.  “Have you been writing for the papers?”

Harry blushed.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.  “I have written two or three articles for the ‘Boston Weekly Standard.’”

“Indeed!  I should like to see them.”

“You republished one of them in the ‘Gazette,’ Mr. Anderson,” said Ferguson.

“What do you refer to?”

“Don’t you remember an article on ‘Ambition,’ which you inserted some weeks ago?”

“Yes, it was a good article.  Did you write it, Walton?”

“Yes, air.”

“Why didn’t you tell me of it?”

“He was too bashful,” said Ferguson.

“I am glad to know that you can write,” said the editor.  “I shall call upon you for assistance, in getting up paragraphs occasionally.”

“I shall be very glad to do what I can,” said Harry, gratified.

“Harry is learning to be an editor,” said Ferguson.

“I will give him a chance for practice, then,” and Mr. Anderson returned to his exchanges.

“By the way, Oscar,” said Harry, “I am not a printer’s devil any longer.  I am promoted to be a journeyman.”

“I congratulate you, Harry, but what will Fitz do now?  He used to take so much pleasure in speaking of you as a printer’s devil.”

“I am sorry to deprive him of that pleasure.  Did you see much of him in vacation, Oscar?”

“I used to meet him almost every day walking down Washington Street, swinging a light cane, and wearing a stunning necktie, as usual.”