Meanwhile Frank and Grace received a cordial welcome at the house of Mr. Pomeroy. Sam and Frank were intimate friends, and our hero had been in the habit of calling frequently, and it seemed homelike.
“I wish you could stay with us all the time, Frank—you and Grace,” said Sam one evening.
“We should all like it,” said Mr. Pomeroy, “but we cannot always have what we want. If I had it in my power to offer Frank any employment which it would be worth his while to follow, it might do. But he has got his way to make in the world. Have you formed any plans yet, Frank?”
“That is what I want to consult you about, Mr. Pomeroy.”
“I will give you the best advice I can, Frank. I suppose you do not mean to stay in the village.”
“No, sir. There is nothing for me to do here. I must go somewhere where I can make a living for Grace and myself.”
“You’ve got a hard row to hoe, Frank,” said Mr. Pomeroy, thoughtfully. “Have you decided where to go?”
“Yes, sir. I shall go to New York.”
“What! To the city?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get something to do, no matter what it is.”