“What is that, sir?”

“Your living in my house—­I being your employer—­may excite jealousy in some.  I think I know of one who will be jealous.”

“Leonard Craig?”

“And his uncle.  However, don’t borrow any trouble on that score.  I hope you won’t take advantage of your position, and, thinking yourself a favorite, neglect your duties.”

“I will not, sir.”

“Business and friendship ought to be kept apart.”

“That is right, sir.”

“I am going back to the house, but you may like to take a walk about the village.  You will feel interested in it, as it is to be your future home.  By the way, it may be well for you to write for your trunk.  You can order it sent to my house.”

“All right, sir; I will do so.”

He went to the post office, and, buying a postal card, wrote to his friend, Gilbert Vance, as follows: 

“Dear Gilbert:—­Please send my trunk by express to me at Milford, care of Henry Jennings, Esq.  He is my employer, and I live at his house.  He is proprietor of a furniture factory.  Will write further particulars soon.

“Carl Crawford.”

This postal carried welcome intelligence to Gilbert, who felt a brotherly interest in Carl.  He responded by a letter of hearty congratulation, and forwarded the trunk as requested.

Carl reported for duty the next morning, and, though a novice, soon showed that he was not without mechanical skill.

At twelve o’clock all the factory hands had an hour off for dinner.  As Carl passed into the street he found himself walking beside the boy whom he had succeeded—­Leonard Craig.

“Good-morning, Leonard,” said Carl, pleasantly.

“Good-morning.  Have you taken my place in the factory?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you shall like it?”

“I think I shall, though, of course, it is rather early to form an opinion.”

“I didn’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to grow up a workman.  I think I am fit for something better.”

“Mr. Jennings began as a factory hand.”

“I suppose he had a taste for it.  I haven’t.”

“Then you like your present position better?”

“Oh, yes; it’s more genteel.  How much does Jennings pay you?”

“Two dollars a week and board.”

“How is that?  Where do you board?”

“With him.”

“Oh!” said Leonard, his countenance changing.  “So you are a favorite with the boss, are you?”

“I don’t know.  He gave me warning that he should be just as strict with me as if we were strangers.”

“How long have you known him?”

Carl smiled.

“I met him for the first time yesterday,” he answered.

“That’s very queer.”

“Well, perhaps it is a little singular.”

“Are you a poor boy?”

“I have to earn my own living.”