hand, near the door.

"Charley, my boy," began Mr. Grant, standing with his back to the
fire, his feet pretty wide apart, and his coat-tails under his arms--
"Charley, my boy, your father has just been speaking of you. He is
very anxious that you should enter the service of the Hudson's Bay
Company; and as you are a clever boy and a good penman, we think that
you would be likely to get on if placed for a year or so in our
office here. I need scarcely point out to you, my boy, that in such a
position you would be sure to obtain more rapid promotion than if you
were placed in one of the distant outposts, where you would have very
little to do, and perhaps little to eat, and no one to converse with
except one or two men. Of course, we would merely place you here on
trial, to see how you suited us; and if you prove steady and
diligent, there is no saying how fast you might get on. Why, you
might even come to fill my place in course of time. Come now,
Charley, what think you of it?"

Charley's eyes had been cast on the ground while Mr. Grant was
speaking. He now raised them, looked at his father, then at his
interrogator, and said,--

"It is very kind of you both to be so anxious about my prospects. I
thank you, indeed, very much; but I--a--"

"Don't like the desk?" said his father, in an angry tone. "Is that
it, eh?"

Charley made no reply, but cast down his eyes again and smiled
(Charley had a sweet smile, a peculiarly sweet, candid smile), as if