“How much can you offer?”
“Not over a hundred dollars for the first year.”
“Call it two hundred, Judge,” was the ready answer.
The two men looked for a moment into each other's faces.
“His father and I were friends from boyhood,” said Squire Floyd. “He was a warm-hearted man; but always making mistakes. He would have ruined me two or three times over, if I had been weak enough to enter into his plans, or to yield to his importunities in the way of risks and securities. It often went hard for me to refuse him; but duty to those dependent on me was stronger than friendship. But I can spare a hundred dollars for his son, and will do it cheerfully. Only, I must not be known in the matter; for it would lay on Henry's mind a weight of obligation, not pleasant for one of his sensitive disposition to bear.”
“I see, Squire,” answered Judge Bigelow to this; “but then it won't place me in the right position. I shall receive credit for your benevolence.”
“Don't trouble yourself on that score,” answered the Squire, laughing. “It may be that I shall want some law business done—though heaven forbid! In that case, I will call on you, and you can let Henry do the work. Thus the equilibrium of benefits will be restored. Let the salary be two hundred.”
And so this matter being settled, Henry Wallingford remained in the office of Judge Bigelow. The fact of being salaried by the Judge, stimulated him to new efforts, and made him forward to relieve his kind preceptor of all duties within the range of his ability. There came, during the next year, an unusually large amount of office practice—preparing deeds, making searches, and drawing up papers of various kinds. In doing this work, Henry was rapid and reliable. So, when Squire Floyd tendered his proportion of the young man's salary to his neighbor, the Judge declined receiving it. The Squire urged; but the Judge said—
“No; Henry has earned his salary, and I must pay it, in simple justice. I did not think there was so much in him. Business has increased, and without so valuable an assistant, I could not get along.”
So the way had opened before Henry Wallingford, and he was on the road to a successful manhood. At the time of his introduction to the reader, he was in his twenty-third year. On attaining his majority, he had become so indispensable to Judge Bigelow, who had the largest practice in the county, that no course was left for him but to offer the young man a share in his business. It was accepted; and the name of Henry Wallingford was thenceforth displayed in gilt letters, in the office window of his preceptor.