“Philip Brent.”

“When did you meet—­the gentleman who gave you this letter?”

Phil told him.

“Do you know what is in this letter?”

“I suppose, sir, it is a request that you give me a place.”

“Did you read it?”

“No,” answered Phil indignantly.

“Humph!  He wants me to give you the place of errand boy.”

“I will try to suit you, sir.”

“When do you want to begin?”

“As soon as possible, sir.”

“Come to-morrow morning, and report to me first.”

“Another freak of Uncle Oliver’s!” he muttered, as he turned his back upon Phil, and so signified that the interview was at an end.

CHAPTER XI.

Phil enters upon his duties.

Phil presented himself in good season the next morning at the store in Franklin Street.  As he came up in one direction the youth whom he had seen in the store the previous day came up in the opposite direction.  The latter was evidently surprised.

“Halloo, Johnny!” said he.  “What’s brought you here again?”

“Business,” answered Phil.

“Going to buy out the firm?” inquired the youth jocosely.

“Not to-day.”

“Some other day, then,” said the young man, laughing as if he had said a very witty thing.

As Phil didn’t know that this form of expression, slightly varied, had become a popular phrase of the day, he did not laugh.

“Do you belong to the church?” asked the youth, stopping short in his own mirth.

“What makes you ask?”

“Because you don’t laugh.”

“I would if I saw anything to laugh at.”

“Come, that’s hard on me.  Honor bright, have you come to do any business with us?”

It is rather amusing to see how soon the cheapest clerk talks of “us,” quietly identifying himself with the firm that employs him.  Not that I object to it.  Often it implies a personal interest in the success and prosperity of the firm, which makes a clerk more valuable.  This was not, however, the case with G. Washington Wilbur, the young man who was now conversing with Phil, as will presently appear.

“I am going to work here,” answered Phil simply.

“Going to work here!” repeated Mr. Wilbur in surprise.  “Has old Pitkin engaged you?”

“Mr. Pitkin engaged me yesterday,” Phil replied.

“I didn’t know he wanted a boy.  What are you to do?”

“Go to the post-office, bank, and so on.”

“You’re to be errand boy, then?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the way I started,” said Mr. Wilbur patronizingly.

“What are you now?”

“A salesman.  I wouldn’t like to be back in my old position.  What wages are you going to get?”

“Five dollars.”

“Five dollars a week!” ejaculated Mr. G. Washington Wilbur, in amazement.  “Come, you’re chaffing.”