Before the office closed, Grant and his new friend went to the bank to make a deposit of money and checks.  The deposit amounted to about twenty thousand dollars.

“There must be plenty of money in New York,” said Grant.  “Why, up in Colebrook, if a man were worth twenty thousand dollars he would be considered a rich man.”

“It takes a good deal more than that to make a man rich in New York.  In the stock business a man is likely to do a larger business in proportion to his capital than in the mercantile business.”

On their way back from the bank, Grant came face to face with Tom Calder.  Tom was busily engaged in talking to a companion, some years older than himself, and didn’t observe Grant.  Grant was by no means prepossessed in favor of this young man, whose red and mottled face, and bold glance made him look far from respectable.

“Do you know those fellows?” asked Harry Becker.

“The youngest one is from Colebrook.”

“He is in bad company.  I hope he is not an intimate friend of yours?”

“Far from it.  Still, I know him, and am sorry to see him with such a companion.”

At four o’clock Mr. Reynolds proposed to go home.  He beckoned to Grant to accompany him.

CHAPTER XI

GRANT MAKES A FRIEND

“What do you think of your first day in Wall Street?” asked Mr. Reynolds, kindly.

“I have found it very interesting,” answered Grant.

“Do you think you shall like the business?”

“Yes, sir, I think so.”

“Better than if you had been able to carry out your original plan, and go to college?”

“Yes, sir, under the circumstances, for I have a better prospect of helping the family.”

“That feeling does you credit.  Have you any brothers and sisters?”

“One of each, sir.”

“I have but one boy, now nine years old.  I am sorry to say he is not strong in body, though very bright and quick, mentally.  I wish he were more fond of play and would spend less time in reading and study.”

“I don’t think that is a common complaint among boys, sir.”

“No, I judge not from my own remembrance and observation.  My wife is dead, and I am such a busy man that I am not able to give my boy as much attention as I wish I could.  My boy’s health is the more important to me because I have no other child.”

Grant’s interest was excited, and he looked forward to meeting his employer’s son, not without eagerness.  He had not long to wait.

The little fellow was in the street in front of the house when his father reached home.  He was a slender, old-fashioned boy in appearance, who looked as if he had been in the habit of keeping company with grown people.  His frame was small, but his head was large.  He was pale, and would have been plain, but for a pair of large, dark eyes, lighting up his face.