Promote! The word fell like music on Paul's ears. It was all right. His friend had not deserted him after all.
"Oh, thank you, sir," he said, his face brightening.
"Come now, Paul, you didn't really think I meant to discharge you, did you?"
"It looked like it, sir," said Paul.
"I shouldn't have made you feel so uncomfortable," said his employer. "Now about this change. I am letting Manson have his way only to prove to him how unfit Julius is for the post. He hasn't tried him yet. When he does he will find him idle, lazy, and unreliable, and he will find such fault that his nephew will probably himself resign the place in disgust."
"I don't know," said Paul. "Ten dollars will reconcile him as it did me."
"Oh, bless your soul! Julius isn't to have ten dollars. He is to have four, like all his predecessors except yourself."
On the whole Paul was rather glad of that. It made Mr. Manson's momentary triumph less important.
"Now about your own affairs," said Mr. Bradford. "Are you willing to leave Chicago and travel West?"
"I would like it above all things, sir," said Paul, his eyes sparkling.