"Cornelius Dixon. I'm related to the old man on my mother's side."

"Are you in business in New York?" asked Herbert, who, in spite of the
queer manners of his new relative, felt considerable respect for one
who hailed from so important a city.

"Yes, I'm a salesman in a New York store. Where do you live?"

"In Wrayburn."

"Where's that?"

"About twenty miles from here."

"Some one-horse country town, I suppose. Are you in any business?"

"No," said Herbert, "but I'd like to be. Do you think you could get me
a place in New York?"

"Well," said Cornelius, flattered by the belief in his influence which
this inquiry implied, "perhaps I might. You can give me your name and
address, so I can write to you if I hear of anything. If the old man
only leaves me a few thousand dollars, I'll go into business for
myself, and then I'd have an opening for you."

"I hope he will, then."

"So do I. That is where we both agree. But perhaps it will be you that
will get the cash."