"It may be that he is some relative of his employer."
"That isn't very likely," said Roswell, his lip curling. "He used to be a boot-black about the streets."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Turner, keenly. "I think you said he was a friend of yours."
"No, sir," said Roswell, proudly; "I haven't the honor."
"You certainly said 'There's a friend of mine, no older than I am, who gets ten dollars a week.'"
"I didn't mean to speak of him as my friend," said Roswell; "I'm a gentleman's son."
"If you are, his friendship might do you no harm. If he receives the wages you state, he must be a smart fellow. If he didn't earn as much, probably he would not receive it."
"I don't believe he'll keep his place long," muttered Roswell, his wish being father to the thought.
"If he doesn't, you may be able to succeed him," said Mr. Turner. "I shall be compelled to refuse your request. Indeed, so far from increasing your compensation, I have been considering during the last week whether it would not be for my interest to get another boy in your place."
"Sir!" exclaimed Roswell, in dismay.