Taking his carpet-bag in his hand, for he had arranged to have his trunk come the next day, he walked over to the house of Mr. Shaw, his father's executor.
Mr. Shaw was in his office, a little one-story building standing by itself a little to the left of his house. He was busily writing, and did not at once look up. When he saw who it was, he rose up and welcomed Walter with a smile.
"I'm very glad to see you, Walter," he said. "I was just wishing you were here. When did you leave Stapleton?"
"This afternoon, Mr. Shaw. I have just reached Willoughby."
"And how did you like Stapleton?"
"Tolerably well."
"And Mr. Drummond,—how were you pleased with him?"
"As to that," said Walter, smiling, "I can't say that I liked him as well as I might."
"I judged that from what I have heard of his character. He has the reputation of being very mean. A cent in his eyes is as large as a dollar appears to some men. How did he pay you for your services?"
"I worked for board wages."