"I'm glad you're come, Mr. Walton," he said. "Come up stairs to my room."
Finding that he did, after all, live in this handsome house, Maurice expected that it was on the upper floor, and was surprised when Tom led the way into a handsome parlor on the second floor.
"My roommate, Mr. Mordaunt, Mr. Walton," said Tom, introducing the visitor.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Walton," said Mordaunt. "Take a seat," and he indicated a luxurious armchair.
Maurice sank into its depths, and looked around him with wonder. How in the world could a fellow like Tom, earning a salary of five dollars a week, afford to board so luxuriously? Why, it quite eclipsed even his uncle's rooms. Handsome pictures, books, statuary, and choice furniture, under the brilliant blaze of an argand burner, made a beautiful apartment.
"You've got a nice room," he could not help saying.
"Won't you look at the bedroom?" said Mordaunt, politely.
Maurice looked in, and found it in proportion to the parlor.
"Gilbert and I manage to make ourselves comfortable," said Mordaunt. "We enjoy it ourselves, and are glad to have a pleasant place to invite our friends to."
Maurice was astonished; but such is the influence of wealth, or apparent wealth, upon a disposition like his, that he thawed, and made up his mind that he had better change his manner toward one who was able to afford living in such a style.