Part 4 (2/2)
”Then your career shows that a boy from the country may make a success.”
”Yes, that is very true. Many of our most successful men came from the farm; but I a.s.sure you, my boy, that success is not an easy thing to pick up in a big city. The chances are a hundred to one against any boy who comes here from the country. If, however, he does not succ.u.mb to temptation, and has sufficient pluck and perseverance, he can do well in this city.”
”I am quite ready to take that hundredth chance,” said Herbert, in a way that pleased the banker.
”Well, I admire your courage, young man, but now to return to business.
Suppose I were to give you a situation, how could you live on three dollars a week? You say you have no means, and must earn your own living. I cannot pay a larger salary at first.”
”I am sure I can manage that all right, sir; one can do what he must do.”
”That is true; your ideas are sound there, surely. What is your age?”
”I am nearly seventeen, sir.”
”You are so strongly built, perhaps you could get a place where more money could be paid for your services; some place where heavy work is to be done.”
”I am not afraid of hard work, for I have always been accustomed to it; but I would much rather have a chance where there are good prospects ahead.”
”Again you are right,” said the banker, now becoming interested in the young Vermonter. ”What is your education?”
”I pa.s.sed through our district school, and went for several terms to the Green Mountain Academy. I have taught three terms of school.”
”Three terms! You certainly must have commenced young.”
”Yes; I was not very old. I got my first school when I was fifteen.”
”Do you write a good hand? Please come to this desk, and show me what you can do.”
Herbert complied readily with the request, and was most happy to do so, for he had spent many hours in practicing penmans.h.i.+p, and now wrote a beautiful hand.
Richard Goldwin was surprised when he took up the sheet of paper and ran his eye over the well formed letters.
”Mr. Mortimer, will you please show me what you can do with the pen?”
said the banker.
Felix rose to his feet, and the color rose to his face. He wasn't very powerful with the pen, and he knew it; but another matter disconcerted him. He feared, and well he might, that his writing would resemble, only too closely, that in the recommendation which he had shown to Mr.
Goldwin. But he was equal to the emergency, and, to make the disguise perfect, he gave to his writing the left hand or backhand stroke. This was done at the expense of his penmans.h.i.+p, which, however, would not have been considered absolutely bad, had it not been compared with the gracefully and perfectly cut letters of Herbert Randolph.
The banker looked at both critically for a moment, and then, after a pause, said:
”Mr. Mortimer, I would like to speak with you alone.”
The latter followed him to the outer office.
”Your manner pleases me, young man,” said Mr. Goldwin, pleasantly, ”and with one exception I see but little choice between you two boys, but that little is in your compet.i.tor's favor.”
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