“Have you any work I could do?” Max inquired eagerly.
Taken unawares the man fell into the trap. “No. Business is slack and I am pushed to keep my men busy as it is. Even had to discharge some.”
“That’s your answer, sir. I have hunted work for two months.”
“Got any now?”
“Yes; and a prospect of its being permanent. The lady I told you of will teach me the nursery business if I’m not too stupid to learn; but she insists that I shall go to school at the same time.”
“Does she know—of what you are doing now?”
“No, sir. When I go home—” Suddenly something swelled in his throat and for a second he could not go on. Home! It was a home; and Mrs. Schmitz, more than a benefactress, gave him the affection and understanding of a mother. “She knows I am—that I have stolen things,” he went on haltingly; “but she trusts me; and I shall tell her that I have—have made good—if you’ll let me. Won’t you please give me the chance, sir?”
“By George, I will! You’ve got the stuff for a real man in you. Suppose we call it square at a dollar?”
“That’s not enough.”