“I will certainly write. In fact, you will be my only correspondent. You must write me about yourself, too.”
“There won’t be much to write. My life will be uneventful. But you may like to hear news of the village and the school, that is, after vacation is over. I’ll write all that I think will interest you.”
“Thank you. You may be sure I shall want to hear. And now, John, I must bid you good-night, and good-by, for I am to start early in the morning, and have not yet packed my trunk.”
“Good-night, then. Take care of yourself, Gilbert.”
“The same to you, John.”
So the two boys parted, but they saw each other once more. As Gilbert was about to get into the cars, John came up hurriedly and gave him a farewell shake of the hand.
“He’s a capital fellow,” thought Gilbert. “I hope he’ll have good luck, and that we shall meet again soon.”
An hour and a half brought our hero to the city. He stepped upon the platform, and getting upon a horse-car rode down-town to his guardian’s office. He had a check for his trunk, but did not claim it at once, not feeling certain what would be his destination.
In a busy street, not five minutes’ walk from Wall Street, was the office of Richard Briggs. Gilbert had no trouble in finding it, for he had been there before. Now, however, he had a new feeling as he entered the handsomely fitted-up room. He was no longer the wealthy ward, but as it appeared the humble dependent of the rich merchant whom he was to meet. The change was not an agreeable one, but he had made up his mind that he must face whatever was disagreeable in his position in a manly way.
“Is Mr. Briggs in?” he inquired, of a clerk who was writing at a desk.