Herr Brockhaus was a tall, youngish, good-looking man, a little haughty of mien, but with a tendency to smile in quite friendly fashion.
"I have as good as hired another boy who got here earlier than you," he said in reply to Keith's inquiry. On seeing Keith's dejected look, he laughed good-humouredly.
"There are plenty of other jobs," he suggested.
"But you look as if you would be kind to me and give to a chance to learn," Keith heard himself saying to his own intense astonishment.
"I can see that when you want a thing you want it real hard," Herr Brockhaus rejoined with another peasant laugh. "Well, I like that. What kind of a hand do you write?"
"Awful," Keith confessed, "but I am going to learn better."
For a good long while Keith felt himself studied from top to toe, and under that searching scrutiny he blushed as usual.
"I am willing to do anything that is required," he ventured to ease the suspense.
"All right--what did you say your name was? Keith--I'll take you, and tell the other boy that I changed my mind. When can you begin?"
"Tod ... tomorrow," Keith corrected himself with a sudden remembrance of his father.