It was eleven o’clock on the forenoon of the next day when Frank walked up Canal Street toward Broadway. He had been down to the wharves since early in the morning, seeking for employment. He had offered his services to many, but as yet had been unable to secure a job.
As he was walking along a man addressed him:
“Will you be kind enough to direct me to Broadway?”
It was Nathan Graves, with whom Frank was destined to have some unpleasant experiences.
“Straight ahead,” answered Frank. “I am going there, and will show you, if you like.”
“Thank you, I wish you would. I live only fifteen or twenty miles distant,” said Graves, “but I don’t often come to the city, and am not much acquainted. I keep a dry-goods store, but my partner generally comes here to buy goods. By the way, perhaps you can help me about the errand that calls me here today.”
“I will, sir, if I can,” said Frank, politely.
“My youngest clerk has just left me, and I want to find a successor—a boy about your age, say. Do you know any one who would like such a position?”
“I am out of employment myself just now. Do you think I will suit?”
“I think you will,” said Mr. Graves.