This was the other compositor, a man of thirty, whose case was not far distant from Clapp’s.

“I can’t afford it,” said Ferguson; “nor could Clapp, if he had a wife and two young children to support.”

“Smoking doesn’t cost much,” said the younger journeyman.

“So you think; but did you ever reckon it up?”

“No.”

“Don’t you keep any accounts?”

“No; I spend when I need to, and I can always tell how much I have left.  What’s the use of keeping accounts?”

“You can tell how you stand.”

“I can tell that without taking so much trouble.”

“You see we must all agree to disagree,” said Mr. Anderson.  “I am afraid Clapp isn’t going to be a second Benjamin Franklin.”

“Who is?” asked Clapp.

“Our young friend here,” said the editor.

“Oh, is he?” queried the other with a sneer.  “It’ll be a great honor I’m sure, to have him in the office.”

“Come, no chaffing, Clapp,” said Mr. Anderson.

Harry hastened to disclaim the charge, for Clapp’s sneer affected him disagreeably.

“I admire Franklin,” he said, “but there isn’t much danger of my turning out a second edition of him.”

“Professional already, I see, Walton,” said the editor.

“When shall I go to work, Mr. Anderson?”

“Whenever you are ready.”

“I am ready now.”

“You are prompt.”

“You won’t be in such a hurry to go to work a week hence,” said Clapp.

“I think I shall,” said Harry.  “I am anxious to learn as fast as possible.”

“Oh, I forgot.  You want to become a second Franklin.”

“I sha’n’t like him,” thought our hero.  “He seems to try to make himself disagreeable.”

“Mr. Ferguson will give you some instruction, and set you to work,” said his employer.

Harry was glad that it was from the older journeyman that he was to receive his first lesson, and not from the younger.

CHAPTER III.

Harry stumbles upon an acquaintance.

After supper Harry went round to the tavern to see about his trunk.  A group of young men were in the bar-room, some of whom looked up as he entered.  Among these was Luke Harrison, who was surprised and by no means pleased to see his creditor.  Harry recognized him at the same instant, and said, “How are you, Luke?”

“Is that you, Walton?” said Luke.  “What brings you to Centreville?  Professor Henderson isn’t here, is he?”

“No; I have left him.”

“Oh, you’re out of a job, are you?” asked Luke, in a tone of satisfaction, for we are apt to dislike those whom we have injured, and for this reason he felt by no means friendly.

“No, I’m not,” said Harry, quietly.  “I’ve found work in Centreville.”

“Gone back to pegging, have you?  Whose shop are you in?”