red who was responsible for briefing it. Hastings smiled and said
he had done so. As I looked at him it suddenly dawned on me that this
man might make real money if he studied for the bar and started in
practice for himself. He had brains and an enormous capacity for work. I
should dislike losing so capable a secretary, but it would be doing him
a good turn to let him know what I thought; and it was time that I did
somebody a good turn from an unselfish motive.

"Hastings," I said, "you're too good to be merely a stenographer. Why
don't you study law and make some money? I'll keep you here in my
office, throw things in your way and push you along. What do you say?"

He flushed with gratification, but, after a moment's respectful
hesitation, shook his head.

"Thank you very much, sir," he replied, "but I wouldn't care to do it. I
really wouldn't!"

Though I am fond of the man, his obstinacy nettled me.

"Look here!" I cried. "I'm offering you an unusual chance. You had
better think twice before you decline such an opportunity to make
something of yourself. If you don't take it you'll probably remain what
you are as long as you live. Seize it and you may do as well as I have."

Hastings smiled faintly.

"I'm very sorry, sir," he repeated. "I'm grateful to you for your
interest; but--I hope you'll excuse me--I wouldn't change places with
you for a million dollars! No--not for ten million!"

He blurted out the last two sentences like a schoolboy, standing and
twisting his notebook between his fingers.

There was something in his tone that dashed my spirits like a bucket of
cold water. He had not meant to be impertinent. He was the most truthful
man alive. What did he mean? Not willing to change places with me! It
was my turn to flush.

"Oh, very well!" I answered in as indifferent a manner as I could
assume. "It's up to you. I merely meant to do you a good turn. We'll
think no more about it."

I continued to think about it, however. Would not change places with
me--a fifty-dollar-a-week clerk!

Hastings' pointblank refusal of my good offices, coming as it did hard
on the heels of my own realization of failure, left me sick at heart.
What sort of an opinion could this honest fellow, my mere
employee--dependent on my favor for his very bread--have of me, his
master? Clearly not a very high one! I was stung to the
quick--chagrined; ashamed.

* * * * *

It was Saturday morning. T