Nothing more was said.  The mother and son, after sitting silent and pensive during the evening, retired early to bed.  On the next day, urged on by his anxious desire to get the situation of which he had heard, Hiram again called at the counting room of Mr. Easy, his heart trembling with hope and fear.  There were two or three men present.  Mr. Easy cast upon him rather an impatient look as he entered.  His appearance had evidently annoyed the merchant.  Had he consulted his feelings, he would have retired at once.  But that was too much at stake.  Gliding to a corner of the room, he stood, with his hat in his hand, and a look of anxiety upon his face, until Mr. Easy was disengaged.  At length the gentlemen with whom he was occupied went away, and Mr. Easy turned towards the boy.  Hiram looked up earnestly in his face.

“I have really been so much occupied my lad,” the merchant said, in a kind of apologetic tone, “as to have entirely forgotten my promise to you.  But I will see about it.  Come in again, to-morrow.”

Hiram made no answer, but turned with a sigh towards the door.  The keen disappointment expressed in the boy’s face, and the touching quietness of his manner, reached the feelings of Mr. Easy.  He was not a hard hearted man, but selfishly indifferent to others.  He could feel deeply enough if he would permit himself to do so.  But of this latter failing he was not often guilty.

“Stop a minute,” he said.  And then stood in a musing attitude for a moment or two.  “As you seem so anxious about this matter,” he added, “if you will wait here a little while, I will step down to see Mr. G—­at once.”

The boy’s face brightened instantly.  Mr. Easy saw the effect of what he said, and it made the task he was about entering upon reluctantly, an easy one.  The boy waited for nearly a quarter of an hour, so eager to know the result that he could not compose himself to sit down.  The sound of Mr. Easy’s step at the door at length made his heart bound.  The merchant entered.  Hiram looked into his face.  One glance was sufficient to dash every dearly cherished hope to the ground.

“I am sorry,” Mr. Easy said, “but the place was filled this morning.  I was a little too late.”

The boy was unable to control his feelings.  The disappointment was too great.  Tears gushed from his eyes, as he turned away and left the counting-room without speaking.

“I’m afraid I’ve done wrong,” said Mr. Easy to himself, as he stood, in a musing attitude, by his desk, about five minutes after Hiram had left.  “If I had seen about the situation when he first called upon me, I might have secured it for him.  But it’s too late now.”

After saying this the merchant placed his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and commenced walking the floor of his counting room backwards and forwards.  He could not get out of his mind the image of the boy as he turned from him in tears, nor drive away thoughts of the friend’s widow whom he had neglected.  This state of mind continued all the afternoon.  Its natural effect was to cause him to cast about in his mind for some way of getting employment for Hiram that would yield immediate returns.  But nothing presented itself.