THE TIN BOX.
"I met my dootiful son this mornin'," remarked Martin to his employer, at their next interview.
"Did you?" said Smith, carelessly, for he felt little interest in Martin's relations.
"Yes; he's in business in Wall Street."
"How's that?" asked Smith, his attention arrested by this statement.
"He's with Turner, the banker. He was going to the bank, with a tin box under his arm. I'd like to have the money there was in it."
"Did he tell you there was money in it?"
"No; but I'll bet there was enough in it to make a poor man rich."
"Perhaps so," said Smith, thoughtfully.
"How old is your son?" he inquired, after a pause.