xpect you to deposit money with us as security."

"How much do you want?"

"Five hundred dollars."

Our hero whistled.

"That's ahead of my pile," he said.

"How much have you got?"

"Fifteen dollars; but I owe part of it for board."

"Then get out of this office! Do you think I can afford to waste my
time in talking to you?" said the young man, angrily.

"You'd rather waste my money. You'll have to hook in some other chap,
mister. I've been round."

Of course it was only a trap to fleece the unsuspecting out of their
money. Tom was posted, and only went in to have a little fun. He meant
to wait and hear what Mr. Ferguson had to propose before forming any
decisive plans for the future.

CHAPTER XIII.

AN ADVENTURE.

The next morning, at the time appointed, Tom called at the
establishment of Mr. Ferguson. The first he met was Maurice Walton.
Maurice, in fact, was the youngest clerk, having received the
appointment six weeks before, through the influence of his uncle.

"Did you come round to see me? I'm busy," said Maurice.

"Haven't you swept out yet?" asked Tom, mischievously.

"Do you think I would demean myself by sweeping out?" returned Maurice,
disgusted.

"I thought that might be your business."

"That would be good business for you. Perhaps Mr. Ferguson will engage
you."

"All right; I'll accept, if he'll pay me enough. Is he in?"

"Who?"

"Your boss."

"I don't understand such low terms," said Maurice, loftily.

"Then it's time you did. Is Mr. Ferguson in?--if you can understand
that better."

"Yes, he is, but he won't see you."

"Why not?"

"Because his time is too valuable."

"Then I wonder why he asked me to come round this morning?"

"Did he?"

"Of course he did; and, if you've got through sweeping out, you'd
better let him know I'm on hand."

"Go yourself."

"Thank you for your polite invitation. They didn't examine you in good
manners when they took you in here, did they?"

"You're an impertinent fellow."

"Thank you. You ought to be a good judge of impudence. I'll see you
again soon--hope you won't miss me much."

Our hero, who, it must be confessed, was not troubled by bashfulness,
made a low bow to his opponent, and, advancing to the counting-room,
opened the door. Mr. Ferguson looked up from his letters.

"Take a seat, Grey," he said, "and I'll speak to you in a moment."

"Thank you," said Tom, who knew how to be polite when it was proper to
be so.