“Well, come out and see us often. I would invite you to come and take supper some night, but I suppose you couldn’t accept.”
“No, Mr. Cooper, thanking you just the same.”
“You haven’t been homesick yet, Grant, have you?”
“No; except the first day, when I didn’t know how I was coming out.”
“And you wouldn’t like to be back on Mr. Tarbox’s farm again?”
“Not much; but I should like to see mother again, if only for a few minutes.”
“If you do well, and carry home a good sum of money, you can make things comfortable for her, you know.”
“That’s what I am thinking of all the time.”
Grant took leave of the blacksmith and went back to work. He was glad to think he had some one to call upon who reminded him of home. He worked long hours, though the labor could not be considered hard. There was one other waiter beside himself, a young man of twenty-five, named Albert Benton. He was thin and dark-complexioned, and Grant, without being able to explain why, conceived a dislike to him. He saw that Benton was inclined to shirk work, though he received higher pay than his young associate. He was paid five dollars per day and had a room outside. Mr. Smithson, the proprietor of the restaurant, had desired him to sleep in a small room over the restaurant, but he had declined to do so. Upon this the same request was made of Grant, and he complied, glad to save the price of lodging elsewhere. When the restaurant closed at ten o’clock, frequently Grant would go out for a short walk, as it was a relief to breathe the fresh outside air after being confined in the close atmosphere of the eating-house during the day and evening. Generally he and Benton went out together, but his companion soon left him, finding a simple walk entirely too slow and unexciting for his taste.