"Yes, Grit, I send you forth with a father's blessing," said Brandon paternally. "By the way, have you a quarter about you?"
Grit thought that a quarter was rather a high price to pay for Brandon's blessing, but he was in good spirits, and this made him good-natured. Accordingly, he drew a quarter from his pocket and handed it to his stepfather.
"Thank you, Grit," said Brandon briskly, for he had felt uncertain as to the success of his application. "I like to see you respectful and dutiful. I will drink your good health, and success to your plans."
"You had better drink it in cold water, Mr. Brandon."
"That's all right," said Brandon. "Good-by!"
He disappeared in the direction of the nearest saloon, and Grit returned to the depot to take the train for Boston.
"I don't know that I ought to have given him any money," thought Grit, "but I was so glad to get rid of him that I couldn't refuse."
He reached Boston without further adventure, arriving at the Boston and Maine depot in Haymarket Square about four o'clock.
"I wonder whether it is too late to call on Mr. Weaver to-night," thought Grit.
He decided that it was not. Even if it were too late for an interview, he thought it would be wise to let his prospective employer understand that he had met his appointment punctually.