"Bless my soul, how quick you were!" he exclaimed. "Why, I've only been
home a few minutes. Did you find the umbrella at Mr. Peckham's office?"

"Yes, sir; it had been found, and taken care of."

"Did Peckham say anything?"

"He said you were probably afraid to trust it with him over night, but
he smiled when he said it."

"Peckham will have his joke, but he is an excellent man. My boy, I am
much indebted to you."

"I was very glad to do the errand, sir," said Frank.

"I think you said you were poor," said the old man, thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir. When I met you I hadn't a cent in the world."

"Haven't you any way to make a living?"

"Yes, sir. I could sell papers if I had enough money to set me up in
business."

"Does it require a large capital?"

"Oh, no, sir," said Frank, smiling, "unless you consider fifty cents a
large sum."

"Fifty cents!" repeated the old gentleman, in surprise. "You don't mean
to say that this small sum would set you up in business?"

"Yes, sir; I could buy a small stock of papers, and buy more with what I
received for them."

"To be sure. I didn't think of that."

Mr. Bowen was not a man of business. He had an ample income, and his
tastes were literary and artistic. He knew more of books than of men,
and more of his study than of the world.

"Well, my boy," he said after a pause, "how much do I owe you for doing
this errand?"

"I leave that to you, sir. Whatever you think right will satisfy me."

"Let me see, you want fifty cents to buy papers, and you will require
something to pay for your bed."

"Fifty cents in all will be enough, sir."

"I think I had better give you a dollar," said the old gentleman,
opening his pocket-book.

Frank's eyes sparkled. A dollar would do him a great deal of good; with
a dollar he would feel quite independent.

"Thank you, sir," he said. "It is more than I earned, but it will be
very acceptable."

He put on his hat, and was about to leave the house, when Mr. Bowen
suddenly said, "Oh, I think you'd better stay to dinner. It will be on
the table directly. My niece is away, and if you don't stay I shall be
alone."

Frank did not know what to say. He was rather abashed by the invitation,
but, as the old gentleman was to be alone, it did not seem so
formidable.

"I am afraid I don't look fit," he said.

"You can go upstairs and wash your face and hands. You'll find a
clothes-brush there also. I'll ring for Susan to show you the way."