"It is a little too soon to say that, isn't it?"
"No; I judge from what I see. He is industrious and ambitious, and is bound to succeed. The world will hear of him yet."
Mr. Anderson smiled. He liked what he had seen of his new apprentice, but he thought Ferguson altogether too sanguine.
"He's a good, faithful boy," he admitted, "but it takes more than that to rise to distinction. If all the smart boys turned out smart men, they'd be a drug in the market."
But Ferguson held to his own opinion, notwithstanding. Time will show which was right.
The next day Ferguson said, "Harry, come round to my house, and take tea to-night. I've spoken to my wife about you, and she wants to see you."
"Thank you, Mr. Ferguson," said Harry. "I shall be very glad to come."
"I'll wait till you are ready, and you can walk along with me."
"All right; I will be ready in five minutes."
They set out together for Ferguson's modest home, which was about half a mile distant. As they passed up the village street Harry's attention was drawn to two boys who were approaching them. One he recognized at once as Fitzgerald Fletcher. He had an even more stunning necktie than when Harry first met him, and sported a jaunty little cane, which he swung in his neatly gloved hand.