“I am ready to like him after reading that letter he wrote you.  Is he fond of study?”

“That is his weak point,” said Hector, laughing.  “Walter was never cut out for a scholar.  I don’t mean, of course, that he hasn’t fair capacity, but his taste doesn’t lie that way.  However, he won’t give you any trouble, only you won’t succeed as well as you may wish in pushing him on.”

“All boys are not cut out for scholars,” said the usher.  “Now you, Hector, would do excellently, and might hope to make a very successful professional man.”

Hector shook his head.

“I must look to a different career,” he said.  “I am to be the architect of my own fortune, you know.”

“What are your plans, Hector?” asked the usher.

“I will consult with Mr. Boss, Walter’s father.  By the way, he knows nothing of the change in my circumstances.  He supposes me to be the heir to the Roscoe estate.”

“Trouble has come upon you early, Hector.  Should you need help hereafter, you must remember that I am earning a good salary and—­”

“Thank you, Mr. Crabb,” gratefully, “but you will need all you earn.  I don’t look upon my loss of fortune as a trouble.  I think it will make me more manly and self-reliant, and stimulate me to exertion.  I have a fair education, and I am sure I can earn my living in some honest way.”

“If that is your spirit, Hector, I am sure you will succeed.  You are young and hopeful.  I am too much inclined to despond.  I have always been timid about the future.  It is a matter of temperament.”

It was early in the afternoon when they reached New York.  As they emerged from the depot a bright-faced boy came up eagerly and greeted them.

“How are you, Hector?” he said.  “You see, I came to meet you.  I have been longing to have you come.”

“I am just as glad to see you, Walter,” said Hector, heartily.  “Mr. Crabb, here is your future pupil, Walter Boss.”

“I hope we may soon be friends, Walter,” said the usher, attracted by the bright, sunny face of the boy.

Walter gave the usher his hand.

“I hope so, too,” he said, smiling.  “I’ll try not to worry you any more than I can help.”

“I have no misgivings,” said Mr. Crabb, as he mentally contrasted his new pupil with Jim Smith, and two or three others at the institute, who had been a frequent source of trouble and annoyance.

“Here is the carriage,” said Walter, pointing out a plain but handsome carriage waiting outside.  “Bundle in, both of you!  I beg your pardon, Mr. Crabb, for my familiarity.  That was intended for Hector.”

“I am ready to be classed with Hector,” said Mr. Crabb.

“I am glad to hear you say so.  I was afraid you would be stiff and dignified.”

“I think I shall take my cue from you.”

“Oh, my rule is, go as you please.  Edward, drive home!”

The house occupied by Mr. Boss was a fine brown-stone dwelling on Forty-second Street.  Arrived there, Mr. Crabb was shown into a spacious chamber, on the third floor, furnished with a luxury to which the poor usher was quite unaccustomed.