"I am greatly obliged to you, sir, and I may some day be glad to take advantage of your kind offer. Now, I will bid you good-by."
"Just one word more, Oscar," said Mr. Anderson, as the boy laid his hand upon the door-knob; "if you don't secure that better thing of which you were speaking, remember that your old position is open to you."
"At thirty-five dollars a month," chimed in Mr. Smith.
"Thank you; I'll bear it in mind."
Oscar's excitement, which had been worked up to almost fever-heat by the conversation he had had with the professor in his work-shop that morning, was greatly increased by this interview; but still he managed to keep a few of his wits about him, and when he passed out into the store he ran his eyes hastily around to see if any of the clerks were missing. They were all there except one.
"I'm glad to see you, Oscar!" cried Hudson, the oldest clerk in the store. "You look as happy as a clam. Coming back?"
"It is hardly probable," was the reply. "Where's Stuart?"
"Stuart has been sick in bed ever since Friday—something like brain fever, I think," answered Hudson.
"He works here yet, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes; he'll be back as soon as he gets well. And I'll tell you something, Preston, which surprised me when I first found it out: Mr. Smith's got a heart. I heard him say that Stuart's wages would go right on."