his character.  For, on the one hand, some averred that to their certain knowledge Joe Gallop had shown himself a monster of ingratitude toward his grandfather, who had paid his debts and done all kinds of things for him; on the other hand there were some who thought he had been badly treated; and some said that no good would ever come of a young fellow who was never able to remain in the same situation more than a month or so; and others said that he had certainly been unfortunate, but that he was a quick and clever young man, who would some day find the kind of work that suited him, and then he would show everybody of what stuff he was composed.  As for us, we have only to judge of him by his actions.

“Perhaps, Mr. Joseph,” said Mr. James, “perhaps Miss Iris won’t have all bequeathed to her?”

“Do you know anything?” Joe asked quickly.  “Has he made a new will lately?”

“Not that I know of.  But Mr. Chalker has been here off and on a good bit now.”

“Ah!  Chalker’s a close one, too.  Else he’d tell me, his old friend.  Look here, Foxy,” he turned a beaming and smiling face upon the assistant.  “If you should see anything or find anything out, tell me, mind.  And, remember, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Mr. James looked as it he was asking himself how Joseph could make it worth his while, seeing that he got nothing more from his grandfather, and by his own showing never would have anything more.

“It’s only his will I’m anxious to know about; that, and where he’s put away all his money.  Think what a dreadful thing it would be for his heirs if he were to go and die suddenly, and none of us to know where his investments are.  As for the shop, that is already disposed of, as I dare say you know.”

“Disposed of?  The shop disposed of!  Oh, Lord!” The assistant turned pale.  “Oh, Mr. Joseph,” he asked earnestly, “what will become of the shop?  And who is to have it?”

“I am to have it,” Mr. Joseph replied calmly.  This was the lie absolute, and he invented it very cleverly and at the right moment—­a thing which gives strength and life to a lie, because he already suspected the truth and guessed the secret hope and ambition which possesses every ambitious assistant in this trade—­namely, to get the succession.  Mr. James looked upon himself as the lawful and rightful heir to the business.  But sometimes he entertained grievous doubts, and now indeed his heart sunk into his boots.  “I am to have it,” Joe repeated.

“Oh, I didn’t know.  You are to have it, then?  Oh!”

If Mr. James had been ten years younger, I think he would have burst into tears.  But at the age of forty weeping no longer presents itself as a form of relief.  It is more usual to seek consolation in a swear.  He stammered, however, while he turned pale, and then red, and then pale again.

“Yes, quite proper, Mr. Joseph, I’m sure, and a most beautiful business may be made again here by one who understands the way.  Oh, you are a lucky man, Mr. Joseph.  You are indeed, sir, to get such a noble chance.”