The man looked up with a scowl as he entered.
“Well,” he remarked frigidly, “did you think you could come back to your old place?”
“Certainly not, Mr. Hubbard. There is no Mr. Brewster to require a confidential clerk,” Gerald gravely returned. “I have simply come to take away what few things belong to me.”
“Very well; be as expeditious as possible about it,” was the caustic rejoinder, as the man turned his back upon him.
Gerald quietly gathered up his personal belongings and made them into a neat package, put the desk where he had labored so long in perfect order, then left the room and the bank, nodding a friendly adieu to the other clerks as he went, but with a very heavy heart, for without a position and with no influential friends to back him, the outlook was very dark for him.
That evening he called upon Professor Emerson, with whom he had a long talk relative to his prospects.
“There is nothing like a good education to begin life with,” he said. “You are still young, and two years at Harvard are just what you need. Have you anything ahead, Gerald?”
“Yes, sir; I have managed to save five or six hundred dollars since I have been with Mr. Brewster.”
“Have you? Well, that is pretty well for a young man in your position,” said his friend, in a gratified tone; “and now I’m sure I do not see what is to hinder you from going to Harvard.”
“Why to Harvard? Why not to Yale?” questioned Gerald, who would have preferred the latter college, because he would be nearer to New York and Allison.