"The same; he's quite a character, Tommy."
"A good lad though," said the auctioneer, "and a friend of mine."
"He says you know what he wants to be, and that you think he's bughouse."
Tommy laughed. "He spends an hour here every morning," he said.
"What!"
"Turns up as regular as the clock at about fifteen minutes to eight, and stays until he has just time to get to the office on the stroke of nine."
There was a long pause, each man regarding the other thoughtfully. It was Tommy who relieved the situation.
"So far as I know," he said slowly, "he has confided in no one but myself and one other regarding his plans. He's only a boy; he may change his mind any day. But I don't think it. I never knew any one, man, woman, or child, so earnest and determined."
"You know how I'm situated, Tommy; mighty little yet but hope—and, thank God, I've never lost that. It's really a shame, Tommy, paying him the princely salary of two dollars per, but I need him. Tommy, if you think it best not to tell, don't."
Tommy understood. "It might help," he said, "and I can depend upon you to keep silence. Come along."