“Yes, sir; I won’t forget.”
“I know that you are faithful, and I only wish you understood the business well enough to be placed in charge.”
“I wish so, too,” said Chester, frankly.
“I think, however,” Mr. Fairchild added, with a smile, “that it would be hardly prudent to trust my business to an office boy.”
“You are already trusting me very much, Mr. Fairchild.”
“Yes; I feel safe in doing so.”
Chester took the grip up the Elevated stairway and parted with Mr. Fairchild at the ticket office.
As he went down to the street he reflected that his own position during the broker’s absence might not be very comfortable. Still he had his employer’s confidence, and that gave him much pleasure.
He had reached Harris’ large store on his way home when a rakish-looking figure, springing from he knew not where, overtook and touched him on the arm. Chester immediately recognized him as the gambler with whom he had seen the bookkeeper walking on the evening of his first visit to the house of Prof. Hazlitt.
“I say, boy,” said Ralston, “you’re employed by Fairchild, the real estate man, ain’t you?”