book, and letting them gently down--proud of being the author of that
clearly-written, massive work, containing an accurate biography of
Lawrence Newt's business.

The youth tapped at the glass door. Mr. Newt said, "Come in," and, when
the door opened, looked up, and still holding his pen with the ink in
it poised above the paper, he said, kindly, "Well, Sir? Be short. It's
packet-day."

"I want a place, Sir."

"What kind of a place?"

"In a store, Sir."

"I'm sorry I'm all full. But sit down while I finish these letters; then
we'll talk about it."




CHAPTER XV.

A SCHOOL-BOY NO LONGER.


The lad seated himself by the window. Scratch--scratch--scratch. The sun
sparkled in the river. The sails, after yesterday's rain, were loosened
to dry, and were white as if it had rained milk upon them instead of
water. Every thing looked cheerful and bright from Lawrence Newt's