there can be any mistake. I received
a letter from Jones & Porter last week, offering me the place."

Ben took the letter from his pocket and handed it to the young man.

The latter ran his eye over it hastily. He examined the signature and
the address, and said quietly "I don't think this letter came from our
store."

Ben felt as if the earth had opened before him.

"I don't understand it," he said, his face very red. "If the letter isn't
genuine, who could have written it?"

"It seems written in a schoolboy hand," said young Porter. "Isn't it
possible that some one may be playing a practical joke on you?"

"It wouldn't be much of a joke to me," said Ben.

"I should call it a mean trick myself," said Porter; "but can't you think
of any one who may have written it?"

"I'll bet it's Sam Archer."

"And who is Sam Archer?"

"He is the meanest boy in Milltown," said Ben.

"Doesn't he like you? Isn't he one of your friends?"

"No, he does all he can to injure me. But"--here Ben examined the
letter a second time--"this isn't his handwriting."

"That proves nothing. He probably sent it to some confederate in
Boston to copy and mail to you."

"Don't you think there is any chance of its being genuine?" asked Ben.

"The chance is very slight; but it is well, of course, to make sure. I
have been away to pass Sunday, and shall go to the store at once on
my arrival. You can go with me. I will introduce you to my uncle."

"If it is a trick," said Ben uncomfortably, "I shall be in an awkward fix."

"Whether it is a trick or not, you can count on my friendship," said
young Porter kindly.

"Thank you," said Ben gratefully.

About an hour later Ben and his new friend entered the large and
handsome bookstore of Jones & Porter.

Young Porter, as he walked through the store, received the greetings
of his fellow clerks.

"Have you adopted a boy?" asked one facetiously.

"Yes," said Porter, smiling. "Where is my uncle?"

"He is in the back office."

"All right! Come along, Ben."

Henry Porter kept on his way till he reached the back part of the
store, where a good-sized office was partitioned off. Mr. Porter
was writing at a desk.

"Good morning, uncle," said Ben's companion.

"Good morning, Henry. Have a good time?"

"Excellent, uncle. Let me introduce to your favorite notice Master
Benjamin Bradford, of Milltown."

Mr. Porter did not consider it beneath his dignity to be polite even to
a