"Look out, my boy," said Roger, with slow and solemn emphasis. "If you aren't extremely careful you'll find yourself a millionaire."
"But wait a minute, Mr. Gale—"
"Not in this office," Roger said. "Send 'em back, every one of 'em! Understand?"
"Yes, sir," was the meek reply. And with a little sigh of regret John turned his wits to other kinds and conditions of New Yorkers who might care to see themselves in print.
As they worked together day by day, Roger had occasional qualms over leaving John here in the hot town while he himself went up to the mountains. He even thought of writing to Edith that he was planning to bring John, too. But no, she wouldn't like it. So he did something else instead.
"John," he said, one morning, "I'm going to raise your salary to a hundred dollars a month." Instantly from the lad's bright eyes there shot a look of triumph.
"Thanks, Mr. Gale," was his hearty response.
"And in the meantime, Johnny, I want you to take a good solid month off."
"All right, sir, thank you," John replied. "But I guess it won't be quite a month. I don't feel as if I needed it."
The next day at the office he appeared resplendent in a brand-new suit of clothes, a summer homespun of light gray set off by a tie of flaming red. There was nothing soft about that boy. No, Johnny knew how to look out for himself.