“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 prospect² of helping³ 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, lighting⁴ up his face.

“Welcome home, papa,” he said, running up to meet Mr. Reynolds.

The broker⁵ stooped over and kissed his son. Then he said: “I have brought you some company, Herbert. This is Grant Thornton, the boy I spoke⁶ to you about.”

“I am glad to make your acquaintance,” said the boy, with old-fashioned courtesy, offering his hand.

“And I am glad to meet you, Herbert,” responded Grant, pleasantly.

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