“Don’t trouble yourself about that. I will take your directions on the size, and send you what you need from San Francisco.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Crosmont. It will save me a good deal of money.”
“You will need all the money you can earn. Now I will give you my address in San Francisco, and if you have any occasion to ask help or advice write unhesitatingly. I shall travel a part of the time, but I shall always answer your letters as soon as I receive them.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You have no father. Look upon me as a father or guardian, whichever you please. This will be my address.”
He took a card from his pocket, and wrote upon it, under his name, “Care of C.D. Vossler, Jeweler, Market St., San Francisco.”
“Mr. Vossler is an old friend of mine,” he said, “and he will take care of any letters that come directed in this way. I don’t know where I shall put up, so that it will be best always to address me, when you write, in his care.”
“Thank you, sir. I will remember.”
“Yes; don’t lose the card.”
Mr. Crosmont left the restaurant, and Grant did not again see him before his departure. He felt cheered to think he had found such a friend. Two thousand miles from home, it was worth a good deal to think that, if he were sick or got into trouble he had a friend who would stand by him, and to whom he could apply for help or advice.