“What could have induced you to go before the mast, Mr. Butler?” said M'Gruder, as he led Tony away.
“Sheer necessity. I wanted to earn my bread.”
“But you had got something,—some place or other?”
“I was a messenger, but I lost my despatches, and was ashamed to go home and say so.”
“Will you stop with me? Will you be a clerk?” asked the other; and a certain timidity in his voice showed that he was not quite assured as he spoke. “My business is like my brother's,—we 're 'in rags.'”.
“And so should I be in a few days,” laughed out Tony, “if I had n't met you. I 'll be your clerk, with a heart and a half,—that is, if I be capable; only don't give me anything where money enters, and as little writing as possible, and no arithmetic, if you can help it.”
“That will be a strange sort of clerkship,” said M'Gruder, with a smile; “but we 'll see what can be done.”
CHAPTER XLVIII. “IN RAGS”
If Tony Butler's success in his new career only depended on his zeal, he would have been a model clerk. Never did any one address himself to a new undertaking with a stronger resolution to comprehend all its details, and conquer all its difficulties. First of all, he desired to show his gratitude to the good fellow who had helped him; and secondly, he was eager to prove, if proven it could be, that he was not utterly incapable of earning his bread, nor one of those hopeless creatures who are doomed from their birth to be a burden to others.