“I have some business in Chicago, and shall remain two or three days,” said George Melville.
Herbert was quite reconciled to the delay, and, as his services were not required, employed his time in making himself familiar with the famous Western city. He kept his eyes open, and found something new and interesting at every step. One day, as he was passing through the lower portion of the city, his attention was called to a young man wheeling a barrow of cabbages and other vegetables, a little in advance of him. Of course, there was nothing singular about this, but there seemed something familiar in the figure of the young man. Herbert quickened his step, and soon came up with him.
One glance was enough. Though disguised by a pair of overalls, and without a coat, Herbert recognized the once spruce dry-goods clerk, Eben Graham.
Eben recognized Herbert at the same time. He started, and flushed with shame, not because of the theft of which he had been guilty, but because he was detected in an honest, but plebeian labor.
“Herbert Carr!” he exclaimed, stopping short.
“Yes, Eben; it is I!”
“You find me changed,” said Eben, dolefully.
“No, I should recognize you anywhere.”
“I don't mean that. I have sunk very low,” and he glanced pathetically at the wheelbarrow.
“If you refer to your employment, I don't agree with you. It is an honest business.”