So Gilbert was reinstated in his old position, at an advanced salary. His income was now seventeen dollars a week,—an amount which enabled him to live very comfortably, and even to lay aside a few dollars every week. Of course, this required the exercise of economy; but Gilbert felt it to be his duty to be prudent, and prepare for a time when his income might be less.

He found the new book-keeper a very different man from Mr. Moore. He was quite as efficient, and far more agreeable. From the first he regarded Gilbert with friendly interest, and treated him as a friend.

For some time Gilbert had seen nothing of Randolph Briggs. The latter occasionally condescended to wonder how that beggar Greyson was getting along, but did not feel any very deep anxiety on 321his account. One day, however, Randolph ventured down-town, and had the curiosity to enter Mr. Sands’ office.

The book-keeper chanced to be out, and Gilbert was in charge.

Randolph stared in astonishment at our hero.

“How do you happen to be here?” he asked, abruptly.

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” returned Gilbert, pleasantly. “This is my place of business.”

“But, I say, I thought you were sent off.”

“So I was.”

“How did you get back?”

“Mr. Sands took me back, and discharged the book-keeper.”

“Whew!” exclaimed Randolph. “He must think a good deal of you.”

“He believed the charge to be false, and that it was a conspiracy against me.”

Randolph did not know what to think. He had predicted that Gilbert would never get back; and it is not pleasant to be mistaken in one’s predictions.

322“Do you board at the same place?” he asked, after a while.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you find it hard to pay your board?”

Gilbert smiled. The question was an impertinent one; but he felt amused rather than offended.

“I have paid regularly so far,” he said.

“How did you do when you were out of a place?”

“I lived on my salary as teacher.”

Randolph opened wide his eyes in astonishment.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I teach in the evening,” explained our hero.

“You don’t say so! Why, you are only a boy!”

“But I know enough to teach a younger boy.”

“Who are you teaching?”

“Fred Vivian.”

“What, Laura’s brother?”

“The same.”

“He don’t come to your room, does he?”

“No, I go there five evenings in the week.”

“Do you get much pay?”

323“I don’t think you can expect me to answer that question, Randolph.”

“Why, aint you willing to tell?”

“I’ll tell you so much,—that Mr. Vivian pays me more than Mr. Sands.”

Randolph was silent for a moment. This news was worse than the other. He had an admiration for Laura, and it was very disagreeable to think that while he was not on visiting terms at her house, this boy, so much his social inferior, should be freely admitted to Laura’s presence. Perhaps, however, he only saw Fred.

“Does Laura come into the room when you teach her brother?” he asked.

“Certainly. In fact, I help her a little too.”

“It’s the strangest thing I ever heard of,” muttered Randolph.

“What is?”

“That Mr. Vivian should take a poor office-boy to teach his children.”

“It is strange, but true,” assented Gilbert, smiling.

324“I didn’t think you were so artful.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you hadn’t been artful, you wouldn&............