"Do you know Julius?"
"Yes; he's just such another as his uncle in temper, but not in ability. Mr. Manson is an excellent book-keeper, but Julius would make a poor office-boy. Do you think you can stand the book-keeper's temper?"
"I will get along with him as well as I can," answered Paul. "Mr. Bradford is my friend."
"That is good; but you'll hate old Manson before the end of a week."
CHAPTER XXVII.
SERVING A TYRANT.
If Paul was prejudiced against the book-keeper thus early, Mr. Manson was not prepossessed in his favor. He would have been prejudiced against any boy who was selected to fill the place he designed for his nephew, but besides this there was an indefinable something in Paul's air and manner that led him to anticipate difficulty in maintaining his authority.
"I shall have trouble with that boy, I'm thinking," he said to himself, with a vicious stab of the pen in the unoffending paper before him. "Well, that will be bad for him, I reckon. He looks like a mighty independent young vagabond. I shall have to take him in training."
The duties of Paul's new place were not difficult to learn. He didn't need to be shown the way to the post-office, or bank, and he was as well acquainted with the streets and localities of Chicago as any boy had occasion to be.