Mr. Flint, on the other hand, was always kind and cordial, notwithstanding the slighting words from Mr. Rich.

 

One day when Andy returned from lunch he found a boy talking with Simon Rich. He recognized him as his predecessor.

 

The boy, John Crandall, looked at him with an ill-natured glance. As Simon Rich did not see fit to introduce him he did not speak. When Rich went out to lunch John Crandall accompanied him.

 

"Don't you think there is any chance of my getting back, Uncle Simon?" asked John.

 

"Not at present. That boy you saw seems to have the inside track with Mr. Flint."

 

"What sort of a boy is he?"

 

"He's too fresh. I don't like him."

 

"What made Mr. Flint take him on?"

 

"Heaven knows; I don't."

 

"Do you think he is likely to stay?"

 

"Not if I can help it."

 

"Can't you prejudice Mr. Flint against him?"

 

"I will if I can. I am looking for a chance to get him into trouble, but it isn't easy, as he is a goody-goody sort of a boy. He tries to get in with people. You know Mrs. Mason, of Fifty-sixth Street?"

 

"Yes; I have carried purchases there."

 

"The very first day he was here he went there with a chain, and she invited him to lunch."

 

"You don't mean it?" exclaimed John, in surprise. "She never took any notice of me."

 

They went to the Dairy Restaurant, on Union Square, for lunch.

 

"Uncle Simon," said John, when they were going out, "can't you give me fifty cents? You know I haven't a cent of money, now that my salary is stopped."

 

"What do you want fifty cents for?" demanded his uncle, frowning.

 

"I want to go to the Grand Opera House to-night. I haven't been to the theater for two weeks."

 

"And you can't expect to while you are not earning anything."

 

"But that isn't my fault," pleaded John.

 

"Yes, it is. You neglected your duties at Flint's, and he saw it. That is why you lost your place."

 

"It is pretty hard going about without a cent of money in your pocket."

 

"Then you should have kept your place. Have you been around to look for another position?"

 

"No; I thought you would get me back into Flint's."

 

"I don't think there is much chance, but I will try to get the other boy out."

 

"I hope you'll do that; I hate the sight of him. I feel as if he had turned me out of my place."

 

"How do you like the new boy, Mr. Rich?" asked the jeweler at the end of the first week.

 

"I don't care much for him," said Simon Rich, coldly.

 

"What is the matter with him? Does he neglect his work?"

 

"No," Rich admitted, unwillingly.

 

"What have you against him, then?"

 

"He has a sneaking way about him."

 

"On the contrary, he seems to me to be unusually frank and open."

 

"He is trying to get into your good graces."

 

"Well, that is proper, isn't it?

 

"Yes, but--"

 

"Well?"

 

"I think he will bear watching."

 

"Surely you don't suspect him of dishonesty."

 

"Still waters run deep," said the clerk, sententiously.

 

Mr. Flint smiled to himself as he turned away. He understood that the secret of his head clerk's prejudice was the fact that Andy had taken the place of his nephew.

 

Meanwhile Andy had got well acquainted at his boarding house. Besides Mr. Warren he found his next neighbor, Sam Perkins, quite sociable.

 

Sam was a youth of eighteen, and was employed in a furnishing-goods store on lower Broadway. He was fortunate in the location of his store, as he finished work at half-past five, and was able to be at supper at the regular hour. He seemed rather fond of dress and indulged in a variety of showy neckties, being able to get them at wholesale rates.

 

He introduced himself to Andy the first evening.

 

"What pay do you get?" he asked.