“Shank Leather.”
“Is he a very great friend of yours?”
“Very. We have been playmates from childhood, and school-fellows till now.”
“What is he?—his profession, I mean?”
“Nothing at present. That is to say, he has, like myself, been trained to no special profession, and the failure of the firm in the counting-house of which we have both served for some months has cast us adrift at the same time.”
“Would it give you much satisfaction if I were to find good employment for your friend?”
“Indeed it would—the highest possible satisfaction,” exclaimed Charlie, with the first symptom of enthusiasm in his tone and look.
“What can your friend Shank Leather do?” asked the old man brusquely.
“Oh! many things. He’s capital at figures, thoroughly understands book-keeping, and—and is a hard-working fellow, whatever he puts his hand to.”
“Is he steady?”