Andrew Pryor's month opened as if to say something, but it closed with a sudden snap, and his hand came down on the boy's shoulder with positive affection.
"My boy," he exclaimed, with amusing emphasis, "you have saved me more than you can imagine. The people in this town would have had me adjudged a lunatic without a trial if you had delivered that order as I directed you. Such brains as yours shall not go unrecognized. The fellows have been laughing at me because of your youth and girlishness, but they can laugh and be hanged! You are my private secretary from this day at a salary of one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month. You are the smartest boy of your age in New York to-day."
"I am afraid you overestimate what I have done, sir. You see, I knew the market fluctuations and——"
"Will you let me be the judge of that? I tell you there is not another boy in the city that would have done it. Well, it is something in your pocket. You have made a friend, and I am glad of it. You deserve it!"
The handsome eyes of the youth were downcast. He did not reply, but somehow Andrew Pryor seemed to understand that the silence was not the result of ingratitude.
He preferred it, upon the whole, to a flow of words, and attributed it to feeling upon the part of the boy.
Together they went home, and at the door inside the hall Andrew Pryor paused again, laying his hand upon the shoulder of the young man.
"I shall expect you to dine with the family to-night," he said. "It is the respect your new position demands!"
A brilliant, embarrassed red overspread the handsome face, which the patron was not slow to observe.
"What is it?" he demanded. "Remember perfect frankness is always best."