“In Colebrook.  My father is the minister there.”

“That ought to be a recommendation, for it is to be supposed you have been carefully trained.  Some of our most successful business men have been ministers’ sons.”

“Are you in business in New York, sir?” asked Grant, thinking he had a right by this time to ask a question.

“Yes; here is my card.”

Taking the card, Grant learned that his companion was Mr. Henry Reynolds and was a broker, with an office in New Street.

“I see you are a broker, sir,” said Grant.  “Tom Calder wants to get a place in a broker’s office.”

“I should prefer that he would try some other broker,” said Mr. Reynolds, smiling.  “I don’t want a boy who deals with the bucket shops.”

At this point Tom re-entered the car, having finished his cigarette.  Observing that his place had been taken, he sat down at a little distance.

“When you get ready to take a place,” said the broker, “call at my office, and though I won’t promise to give you a place, I shall feel well disposed to if I can make room for you.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Grant, gratefully.  “I hope if I ever do enter your employment, I shall merit your confidence.”

“I have good hopes of it.  By the way, you may as well give me your name.”

“I am Grant Thornton, of Colebrook,” said our hero.

Mr. Reynolds entered the name in a little pocket diary, and left the seat, which Tom Calder immediately took.

“Who’s that old codger?” he asked.

“The gentleman who has just left me is a New York business man.”

“You got pretty thick with him, eh?”

“We talked a little.”

Grant took care not to mention that Mr. Reynolds was a broker, as he knew that Tom would press for an introduction in that case.

When they reached New York, Tom showed a disposition to remain with Grant, but the latter said:  “We’d better separate, and we can meet again after we have attended to our business.”

A meeting place was agreed upon, and Tom went his way.

Now came the difficult part of Grant’s task.  Where should he go to dispose of his pearls?  He walked along undecided, till he came to a large jewelry store.  It struck him that this would be a good place for his purpose, and he entered.

“What can I do for you, young man?” asked a man of thirty behind the counter.

“I have some pearl ornaments I would like to sell,” said Grant.

“Indeed,” said the clerk, fixing a suspicious glance upon Grant; “let me see them.”

Grant took out the necklace and bracelets, and passed them over.  No sooner had he done so than a showily dressed lady advanced to the place where he was standing, and held out her hand for the ornaments, exclaiming:  “I forbid you to buy those articles, sir.  They are mine.  The boy stole them from me, and I have followed him here, suspecting that he intended to dispose of them.”