It will be several days before I shall be able to get away, Bernard,” said Walter Cunningham, the next morning, “and, by the way, I have not told you where I am going.”

“No, sir; I should like very much to know.”

“I propose to visit Italy and perhaps Sicily. We shall go first to Paris, and remain a short time.” Bernard’s eyes sparkled. He had always wished to visit the continent, and had expected to do so in the company of Professor Puffer, but he felt that he should enjoy himself much more in the companionship of Walter Cunningham. Even had Puffer proved a reliable man, there was nothing about him to win the good will and attachment of a boy of his age.

“I shall enjoy it very much, Mr. Cunningham,” said Bernard.

“So I hope. I have not told you much about myself,” continued the young man, “but as we are to be companions and friends it is proper that I should do so.”

Bernard did not speak, but his face expressed unmistakable interest.

“I am alone in the world. My father and mother are dead, and I never had a brother or sister. My father was a wealthy man of business and a man of note, having reached (this was two years before he died) the position of Lord Mayor of London. He contracted a fever at his country house, where, it appeared, the drainage was bad. Two years since, just after I had attained my majority, he died, my mother having preceded him; and I was left in possession of a hundred thousand pounds.”

“Half a million of dollars!” said Bernard.

“Yes, that is the way it would be rated in America. In a pecuniary way, therefore, I am fortunate, but I can’t tell you how solitary I feel at times.”

“I can understand it, Mr. Cunningham. I am in the same position as yourself, only that I am left destitute.”

“Then it appears to me, Bernard, there is a special propriety in our being together. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I am but seven years older. I shall look upon you as a younger brother, and in our new relationship I shall expect you to drop the formal Mr. and call me Walter.”

“It will seem awkward at first, but I shall get used to it and like it.”

“By the way—you will excuse my mentioning it—but it seems to me that your suit is well worn, not to say shabby.”

“That is true. As soon as I can afford it I will buy another.”

“You need not wait till then. I will send you to my tailor’s, with instructions to make you two suits at once. I will also give you an order on my haberdasher for such articles as you may require in his line.”

“Thank you. You can deduct the price from my salary.”

“That is unnecessary. These articles will be my first gift to you.”

“How kind you are, Walter. I think,” Bernard added with a smile, “Professor Puffer would be willing to be a brother to you.”

“I have no doubt of it, but in spite of the professor’s fascinations and the affection which he says you entertain for him, I am afraid I should not appreciate him as perhaps he deserves. Now, I think it will be well for you to go and order your clothing, as we haven’t much time to spare.”

Mr. Cunningham’s tailor occupied a shop in Regent Street, and thither Bernard went. He took with him a note from his employer which insured him a flattering reception. He had no trouble in choosing cloth for suits, as Mr. Cunningham had sent instructions. Next he repaired to the haberdasher’s, and selected such furnishing goods as he required. By special direction of Mr. Cunningham they were of the best description.

He was just coming out of the shop when he met the young man—the first applicant for the position of companion to Mr. Cunningham. He looked rather shabby, and Bernard noticed that his coat was shiny.

He stopped short at sight of Bernard.

“Didn’t I see you at Mr. Cunningham’s rooms at Morley’s two days since?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir.”

“I have been expecting to hear from him. Do you know whether he has yet made choice of a traveling companion?”

“Yes, sir; he has.”

A shade of disappointment passed over the young man’s features.

“Whom did he select?” he asked.

“He chose me.”

“You!” exclaimed the other, in mingled surprise and disdain. “You?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What on earth made him select you? Why, you are only a boy.”

“That is true.”

“Have you ever traveled?”

“Only across the Atlantic from America.”

“It is positively humiliating,” said the other angrily, “to be superseded by a half grown, immature boy,” and he glared at Bernard.

“No doubt, sir,” said Bernard.

“Why, it was the height of audacity for you to apply for such a position.”

“I suppose it was,” said Bernard modestly; “but I had one excuse.”

“What was it?”

“I was poor, and very much in need of employment.”

“Then why didn’t you apply for a position as shop boy.”

“Because I don’t think I could live on the pay of a shop boy.”

“Mr. Cunningham must be insane. Certain no man with his wits about him could make such a foolish selection. Listen to me! I am poor as well as you. I need a new suit of clothes, but I can’t buy it. I have been out of work for three months. Now I am going to ask a favor of you.”

Bernard concluded that the favor was a pecuniary one, and he felt disposed to assist his unfortunate fellow applicant; but he waited to have him explain himself.

“This is the favor I ask,” the young man proceeded. “You will not long retain your position. Mr. Cunningham will discover your incompetency. When you are about to be discharged, will you mention my name as your successor? I am sure to suit Mr. Cunningham. There is my card.”

Considerably astonished at the coolness of the request, Bernard glanced at the card. It bore the name and address of Stephen Brayton.

“I will remember your request, Mr. Brayton,” he said; “but I hope I shall not be discharged.”

“Of course you hope so, but you are certain to lose your place. You seem to be good-natured. Since you have been successful, perhaps you will do me another favor.”

“I will if I can.”

“It is a small one. I am very short of money. Could you lend me half a crown?”

“I will do better than that. Here’s half a sovereign.”

The young man’s eyes sparkled with pleasure.

“You have a good heart,” he said. “As I did not get the place I am glad you did.”

“Thank you. I wish you good luck.”

“He is right,” thought Bernard. “It was certainly a singular selection for Mr. Cunningham to make. He did not think of my qualifications. He evidently took a liking to me.”

The next morning as Bernard was sitting in Mr. Cunningham’s rooms at Morley’s assorting his papers, the servant brought in a short note which Bernard read.

It ran thus:

“My Dear Mr. Cunningham:

“Not yet having heard from you, and being uncertain as to your decision in reference to a traveling companion, I have ventured to call to inquire as to your intentions. It is desirable that I should know speedily, as I have a proposal from another party which I shall otherwise accept. I should, however, prefer to go with you, as in the brief interview which you kindly accorded me I was very favorably impressed by your engaging personal traits.

“I am, very respectfully,

“Ezra Puffer.”

Bernard read over this note with amusement and a little apprehension.

“What had I better do?” he thought. “Will it be safe for me to see the professor?”

Mr. Cunningham had assured him that Professor Puffer could have no possible hold upon him, and he therefore decided to take the risk.

“You can tell the gentleman to come in,” he said.

Professor Puffer was in the anteroom. When he presented himself, with the note already written, he asked the servant, “Is Mr. Cunningham in?”

“No, sir,” said the servant; “but Mr. Brooks is in.”

“Is Mr. Brooks a friend of Mr. Cunningham’s?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then be kind enough to hand him this note. It is addressed to Mr. Cunningham, but he can read it.”

“Yes, sir. All right, sir.”

Quite unprepared for a meeting with his old ward, Professor Puffer entered the room with a jaunty step. When he recognized Bernard, he stepped back with an expression of intense astonishment on his face.

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“Bernard Brooks!” he ejaculated..

“Yes, Professor Puffer. What can I do for you?”