Bobby managed the dinner much better than he had anticipated; for Mr. Bayard insisted that he should sit down with them, whether he ate any thing or not.  But the Rubicon passed, our hero found that he had a pretty smart appetite, and did full justice to the viands set before him.  It is true the silver forks, the napkins, the finger bowls, and other articles of luxury and show, to which he had been entirely unaccustomed, bothered him not a little; but he kept perfectly cool, and carefully observed how Mr. Butler, who sat next to him, handled the “spoon fork,” what he did with the napkin and the finger bowl, so that, I will venture to say, not one in ten would have suspected he had not spent his life in the parlor of a millionnaire.

Dinner over, the party returned to the parlor, where Bobby unfolded his plan for the future.  To make his story intelligible, he was obliged to tell them all about Mr. Hardhand.

“The old wretch!” exclaimed Mr. Bayard.  “But, Robert, you must let me advance the sixty dollars, to pay Squire Lee.”

“No, sir; you have done enough in that way.  I have given my note for the money.”

“Whew;” said Mr. Butler.

“And I shall soon earn enough to pay it.”

“No doubt of it.  You are a lad of courage and energy, and you will succeed in every thing you undertake.”

“I shall want you to trust me for a stock of books on the strength of old acquaintance,” continued Bobby, who had now grown quite bold, and felt as much at home in the midst of the costly furniture, as he did in the “living room” of the old black house.

“You shall have all the books you want.”

“I will pay for them as soon as I return.  The truth is, Mr. Bayard, I mean to be independent.  I didn’t want to take that thirty-five dollars, though I don’t know what Mr. Hardhand would have done to us, if I hadn’t.”

“Ellen said I ought to have given you a hundred, and I think so myself.”

“I am glad you didn’t.  Too much money makes us fat and lazy.”

Mr. Bayard laughed at the easy self-possession of the lad—­at his big talk; though, big as it was, it meant something.  When he proposed to go to the store, he told Bobby he had better stay at the house and rest himself.

“No, sir; I want to start out to-morrow, and I must get ready to-day.”

“You had better put it off till the next day; you will feel more like it then.”

“Now or never,” replied Bobby.  “That is my motto, sir.  If we have any thing to do, now is always the best time to do it.  Dr. Franklin says, ‘Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to day.’”

“Right, Robert! you shall have your own way.  I wish my clerks would adopt some of Dr. Franklin’s wise saws.  I should be a great deal better off in the course of a year if they would.”

CHAPTER IX.

In which Bobby opens various accounts, and wins his first victory.