The reader is now in possession of all the net-work of deception by which Brandon’s ingenuity had contrived to dupe our young hero. It is no wonder that, smart as he was, he failed to discover this. Whatever seemed strange to him he naturally attributed to his want of knowledge of city ways.
When night came, and the office closed, Mr. Fairchild took Harry to Lovejoy’s once more to take supper.
“I must get a boarding-place for you to-morrow,” he said. “To-night, I will secure a room for you here.”
“Where do you live, Mr. Fairchild?” asked Harry, with natural curiosity.
“Why, the fact is, I am boarding at the hotel myself just at present. I have a fine house up town, but it is being painted and refurnished, and, until that is finished, I board at a hotel.”
“Are you married?” continued Harry, who was something of a Yankee, as he showed by his questions.
“My wife and children are travelling in Europe,” said Mr. Fairchild, telling, of course, an unblushing falsehood. “I would join them if I could get away from my business. I must wait till I have a partner to leave in charge.” And he looked at Harry in a significant way, which caused our young hero’s heart to beat with proud anticipations.
They made a very good supper, and then sat down for a while in the public room, Fairchild smoking a couple of cigars with evident enjoyment. He offered one to Harry, which the latter declined, having fortunately never acquired a habit that to boys, at least, can never be productive of good.
About eight o’clock Harry asked permission to go to bed. His long ride in the morning, with the new experiences of his first day in the city, had produced a feeling of fatigue.
“Oh, yes, you can go to bed if you like,” said Fairchild. “I’ll speak to the clerk to give us a room with two beds.”