When he returned Alice welcomed him full of anticipation.

“What have you gone into?” she demanded.

The boy’s eyes fell as they met hers.  “Well”—­he hesitated—­“I haven’t gone into anything.  I guess Mrs. Gorham is right about New York being a hard place to get started in, and I can’t exactly claim to be a ‘finished product’ yet, can I?  You see, they all knew I was Stephen Sanford’s son, and they were as nice to me as could be.  They asked me up to dinner, and then I knew it was all off for getting a job.  The heads of big concerns don’t ask their office-boys to their homes to meet their families, you know.  But I’m not a bit discouraged.  I’m going to find something if I have to tear a hole in the road chasing it.”

A few evenings later Allen called again upon the Gorhams.  It would have been apparent even to those less observant than Alice and Eleanor that something had happened, for the boy’s face glowed with suppressed excitement.

“I think I’ve found a job,” he announced, scarcely waiting for the formality of greetings.  “I’m not sure, but I want to talk it over with you.”

“What is it, Allen?” cried Alice, expectantly.

“It’s a whole lot better than it sounds, I’m sure.  I’m afraid you’ll laugh when I tell you.  It’s selling books.”

“A book agent!” Mrs. Gorham exclaimed.

“There! that’s just what I was afraid of.”  Allen’s expression showed mingled distress and despair.  “It really looks like a corking good chance, yet it’s a ten to one shot that I’ll be laughed out of taking it before I begin.”

“Don’t mind what I said.”  Mrs. Gorham hastened to atone for her involuntary exclamation.  “I suppose it can be a perfectly honorable occupation, but I can’t help thinking of some of the experiences my friends have had.  Tell us all about it.”

“Eleanor and I would be the last ones to discourage you,” Alice added.  “I think it’s fine that you have gotten as far as this.”

Allen’s drooping spirits revived at once, and he beamed at Alice gratefully.

“I’ve simply got to get more experience,” he said, emphatically.  “Mr. Gorham told me that most of the best companies have no time to develop their own material, and I’ve made up my mind definitely that I’m going to do my own developing right now; and when I’ve polished up the material until I can see my face in it, I’ll apply again to Mr. President, and say, ’Here I am, all developed—­now will you give me a job?’”

“Splendid !” cried Alice, clapping her hands.  “Now tell us what you’ve found.  Where is the book-shop?”

“It isn’t in a book-shop at all,” Allen replied, his assurance again beginning to wane.  “It’s just what Mrs. Gorham called it.”

“Oh,” the girl remarked—­“going around from house to house?”