Washington so that I can hear what you're doing and
how you're getting along."

Hamilton thanked the supervisor heartily, and after a word or two of
farewell returned to the house of a friend where he was to dine before
starting on the night train for Washington. Immediately on reaching
there he went directly to the Census Bureau, sent in his card, and the
Director's secretary, a keen young fellow, came out to see him.

"I think I've heard Mr. Burns speak about you, Mr. Noble," he said,
looking at the card he held in his hand. "The Director is very busy
right now, but he said when you came you were to go down to Mr. Cullern;
I'd take you there myself but I'm needed here."

"Well, there's really no necessity, Mr. Russet," the boy replied, "tell
me where it is and I'll find my way."

But the other beckoned to an attendant.

"Show this gentleman to Mr. Cullern," he said. Then, turning with a
smile to the boy, he said, "You'll be all right, I guess."

Hamilton thanked him, and the secretary hurried back through the
swinging half length door to the inner office. Following the messenger,
Hamilton found himself on the main floor with hundreds of machines
clicking on every side of him. The chief of the floor looked at the
card, turned it over, read what had been penciled on the back, and said
promptly:

"I think I'll start you on one of the punching machines."

"Very well, sir," the boy answered, "I want to learn everything I can."

"I have a vacant machine," the other continued, "one of the men is away
on sick leave. If you want to begin right away you can start this
afternoon. Here," he said, picking up a pamphlet from a pile which lay
on a table near by, "is a list of instructions."

"I'm quite ready to start now," Hamilton declared.

"Your machine is over here, then," his new superior said, leading the
way to a far corner of the room. "You had better try to find out as much
as you can from the instructions, and one of the foremen will be 'round
to tell you more about the working of it a little later."

"All right, sir," the boy replied, sitting down at the machine, "I think
I can get on to it without much trouble."

The keyboard was entirely strange to Hamilton. It looked not unlike that
of a big typewriter, or resembled even more closely a linotype keyboard,
only it was divided off into sections each one of which was brightly
colored, giving the arrangement of the keys quite a gay effect. The
instructions we