“Mr. Benton?” repeated Paul in some astonishment.
“Yes; I'm a young man now. I've been Smith & Thompson's boy till now. Now I'm promoted.”
Paul looked at MR. Benton with some amusement. That young man was somewhat shorter than himself, and sole proprietor of a stock of pale yellow hair which required an abundant stock of bear's grease to keep it in order. His face was freckled and expressionless. His eyebrows and eyelashes were of the same faded color. He was dressed, however, with some pretensions to smartness. He wore a blue necktie, of large dimensions, fastened by an enormous breast-pin, which, in its already tarnished splendor, suggested strong doubts as to the apparent gold being genuine.
“There's the broom, Paul,” said Mr. Benton, assuming a graceful position on the counter.
“You'll have to sweep out; only look sharp about raising a dust, or Smith'll be into your wool.”
“What sort of a man is Mr. Smith?” asked Paul, with some curiosity.
“O, he's an out and outer. Sharp as a steel trap. He'll make you toe the mark.”
“Do you like him?” asked Paul, not quite sure whether he understood his employer's character from the description.
“I don't like him well enough to advise any of my folks to trade with him,” said Mr. Benton.
“Why not?”