Warner Powell suppressed a smile. He wondered what Mrs. Merton would have thought could she have seen in what manner he prosecuted his search for employment.
"This is Harold," said Mrs. Tracy, proudly, as her son came in. "Harold, this is your Uncle Warner."
"So you are Harold," said his uncle. "I remember you in short pants. You have changed considerably in five years."
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Harold, curtly. "Where have you been?"
"In Australia, California, and so on."
"How long are you going to stay in Chicago?"
"That depends on whether I can find employment. If you hear of a place let me know."
"I don't know of any unless Aunt Eliza will take you into her employ in place of that newsboy, Luke Walton."
"She can have me if she will pay me enough salary. How much does Luke get?"
"I don't know. He won't tell."