"Aha!" said Mr. Clinton, "I know him. What you say, William, is true. We do not pay any salary to our young clerks, and are overrun with applications at that rate; but I have heard good accounts of you, my boy (I shan't tell you where I had my information, though I see you look very curious), and, moreover, I like your countenance, and believe you will serve me faithfully. So, if you will tell me what you received from Mr. Bray, I will pay you the same next year, and after that increase your salary, if I find you deserve it; and you may commence with me on the first of January."
Willie thanked Mr. Clinton and departed. The merchant was reminded of the time when he too, the only son of his mother, and she a widow, had come alone to the city, sought long for employment, and finding it at last, had sat down to write and tell her how he hoped soon to earn enough for himself and her. And the spirits of those mothers who have wept, prayed, and thanked God over similar communications from much-loved sons, may know how to sympathise with good Mrs. Sullivan, when she heard from Willie the joyful tidings. True exclaimed, "Ah! Master Willie, they needn't have worried about yon, need they? I've told your grandfather more than once, that I was of the 'pinion 'twould all come out right at last."
CHAPTER XIV.
THE MINISTERING ANGEL.
"I wonder," said Miss Peekout, as she leaned on the sill of the front window, and looked up and down the street—"I wonder who that slender girl is that walks by here every morning, with that feeble-looking old man leaning on her arm? I always see them at just about this time, when the weather permits. She's a nice child, and seems to be very fond of the old man—probably her grandfather. I notice she's careful to leave the best side of the walk for him, and she watches every step he takes; she needs to do so, for he totters sadly. Poor little thing! she looks pale and anxious; I wonder if she takes all the care of the old man!" But they are now quite out of sight.
"I wonder," said old Mrs. Grumble, as she sat at her window, a little further down the street, "if I should live to be old and infirm—(Mrs. Grumble was over seventy, but as yet suffered from no infirmity but that of a very irritable temper)—I wonder if anybody would wait upon me, and take care of me as that little girl does of her grandfather! No, I'll warrant not! Who can she be?"
"There, look, Belle!" said one young girl to another, on their way to school; "there's the girl that we meet every day with the old man. How can you say you don't think she's pretty? I admire her looks!"
"You always do manage, Kitty, to admire people that everybody else thinks are horrid-looking."
"Horrid-looking!" replied Kitty; "she's anything but horrid-looking! Do notice, now, Belle, when we meet them, she has the sweetest way of looking up in the old man's face, and talking to him. I wonder what is the matter with him! Do see how his arm shakes—the one that's passed through hers!"