In a moment or two Jack was requested to walk into the private office, and there found himself face to face with a well-built, florid-complexioned man of perhaps forty, who pointed to a chair alongside his desk and then regarded the boy keenly for a moment or two before he spoke.
“I see you have rendered our family a special service, young man,” said William Atherton, in a genial way. “I should be glad if you would give me the particulars, as I am naturally very much interested.”
Jack with all due modesty related in as few words as possible how he had saved the life of little Fanny Bruce.
“You certainly deserve every word my father has said about you in his letter. To his gratitude I will now add mine—that ought to cover both our sentiments fully. And now I understand you wish to enter this office as a messenger.”
“I hope you will give me trial,” said Jack, earnestly.
“Undoubtedly. You are recommended by my father, and what little I know about you pleases me. You look to be apt and bright. Are you well acquainted with the lower part of the city?”
“Yes, sir.”
“With whom were you last employed?”
Jack told him, and said he could refer to the members of the late firm.
“It is scarcely necessary under the circumstances. Just write your full name and address on that pad. Thank you. That will be all. Your wages will be seven dollars to commence with, and I shall advance you as circumstances permit. You can start in to-morrow morning. The hours are nine to five. Report to Mr. Bishop.”