"You might if you was willing to pay for it," he replied, slowly.
"I have no money with me," replied Jack, feeling in his pockets to make sure.
"Have to wait till morning then," was the short reply, and the young machinist was once more left alone.
He was utterly tired out, and in the course of half an hour fell into a troubled slumber, from which he did not awaken until called.
"Some one to see you," were the watchman's words, and the door opened to admit Mont Gray.
Mont was a tall, thin young man. He had a large brow, deep, dark eyes, and a strangely earnest face. He was quiet in his way, attended punctually to his office duties, and was on much better terms with the hands at the tool works than his uncle had ever been. He was the only son of Mr. Felix Gray's youngest brother, who had died a widower some twelve years before--died, some said, and put out of the way, others whispered. That there was some mystery connected with those times was certain. Rumor had it that Felix Gray had crowded his brother out of the business in which he originally owned a half share. This transaction was followed by Monterey Gray's sudden disappearance. Felix Gray gave it as his opinion that his brother had departed for Australia, a place of which he had often spoken.
Young Mont--he was named after his father--had been taken to live with his uncle, who kept bachelor's hall in fine style.
The boy got along as best he could under the sharp guardianship of Mr. Felix Gray, who, as soon as he could, placed Mont at one of the desks, where he was now allowed to earn his board and four dollars a week.
His position at the tool works brought him into daily contact with Jack; and, during the past two years, a warm friendship had sprung up between them. He knew all about the young machinist's ambition, and had spent many an evening at the Willingtons' apartments watching Jack work, and chatting to Deb, with whom, as is known, he was on good terms.
"Hello, Mont!" exclaimed Jack, "what brings you here? Did your uncle send you?"