"I don't recommend him," the old gentleman answered in his crispest manner. "Bless you, I don't go about recommending people; you know that." He looked into each face so fiercely that they both exclaimed together, "No, of course not. We quite understand."
"Well, what do you want your young friend to have with us—what kind of a position?" asked Mr. Cabot, patting one knee in perplexity.
"Anything," said Mr. King. "Give him anything to do; only get him in here. I tell you he must come, and you've got to take him." He leaned forward in his chair and struck his walking-stick smartly on the floor.
"Who is he?" demanded Mr. Van Meter, feeling that the exigency of the case demanded few words.
"Ben Pepper."
"Ben Pepper!" ejaculated Mr. Cabot. "Why, I thought he was in school."
"He was," said old Mr. King, turning on him with considerable venom, as if he were quite to blame for the whole thing, "but he has made up his mind to go into business. A very poor thing in my opinion; but since he's decided it that way, there's no more to be said," and he waved it off with a nonchalant hand.
"Not so very poor a thing to do after all." Mr. Van Meter got off from his chair, stalked up and down the office floor, bringing his hands every now and then smartly together, to emphasize his periods: "I was but a slip of a lad when I got into the business groove, and I've never been sorry I drudged it early. Now, Mr. King, it wouldn't be well to give Ben any better chance than I had. He must begin at the bottom to amount to anything."
"He wouldn't take the chance if you gave it to him," said Mr. King, dryly. "Why, there's where Ben says he belongs—at the bottom."