dollars, I'll make you my private secretary, payin' you ten dollars
a week."

"How long will you keep me?" asked Ben, smiling.

"Six days," answered Tom. "Then I'll have to sack you without pay,
'cause you don't understand your business."

"Is that the way they manage?" asked Ben.

The bootblack nodded.

Ben looked grave. The disappointment was a serious one, and he felt
now how much he had relied upon the promises of Fitch & Ferguson. He
had formed no other plans, and it seemed likely that he must return
to the country to resume his old life. Yet that seemed
impracticable. There was no opening there unless he accepted one of
the two offers already made him. But he was neither inclined to
enter the employ of Deacon Pitkin, nor to become the valet and
servant of Sam Sturgis. He was not quite sure whether he would not
prefer to become a bootblack, like his new acquaintance.

"What are you goin' to do?" asked Tom.

"I wish I knew," said Ben earnestly. "What can I do?"

"You might go into my business," suggested Tom.

Ben shook his head.