As the clock at the Old South Church struck one, Herbert ascended the steps of Parker's Hotel, and walked into the reading room. George Melville was already there.

“You are on time, Herbert,” he said, with a smile, as our hero made his appearance.

“Yes, sir; but I began to think I should miss my appointment.”

“Where have you been?”

“To Bunker Hill.”

“Did you ascend the monument?”

“Yes, sir, and had a fight at the summit.”

Mr. Melville looked at Herbert in amazement.

“Had a fight at the top of Bunker Hill Monument?” he ejaculated.

“Yes, sir; let me tell you about it.”

When the story was told, Mr. Melville said: “That was certainly a remarkable adventure, Herbert. Still, I am not sorry that it occurred.”

It was Herbert's turn to look surprised.

“I will tell you why. It proves to me that you are worthy of my confidence, and can be trusted with the care of money. It has also taught you a lesson, to beware of knaves, no matter how plausible they may be.”

“I haven't got over my surprise yet, sir, at discovering the real character of the man who went with me. I am sorry I met him. I don't like to distrust people.”

“Nor I. But it is not necessary to distrust everybody. In your journey through the world you will make many agreeable and trustworthy acquaintances in whom it will be safe to confide. It is only necessary to be cautious and not give your confidence too soon.”

“Oh, I didn't mention that I met somebody from Wayneboro,” said Herbert.

“Was it Eben Graham?”

“Yes.”

“I met him myself on Washington Street. Did you speak to him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I suppose he goes back to-night?”

“I don't think he will go back at all, Mr. Melville.”

His employer looked at him inquiringly.

“I saw him buy a ticket to Chicago, though he does not know it,” continued Herbert. “When he spoke with me he didn't admit it, but spoke of going back by an afternoon train.”

“I am afraid he has appropriated some of his father's funds,” said Melville. “I doubt if Ebenezer Graham would voluntarily furnish him the means of going West.”

“That was just what occurred to me,” said Herbert; “but I didn't like to think that Eben would steal.”

“Perhaps he has not. We shall be likely to hear when we return. But you must be hungry. We will go in to dinner.”

Herbert followed Mr. Melville into the dining room, where a good dinner was ordered, and partaken of. Herbert looked over the bill of fare, but the high prices quite startled him. He was not used to patronizing hotels, and it seemed to him that the price asked for a single dish ought to be enough to pay for a whole dinner for two. He knew about what it cost for a meal at home, and did not dream that it would amount to so much more at a hotel.

When the check was brought Herbert looked at it.

“Two dollars and a half!” he exclaimed.

“It costs an awful amount to live in Boston.”

“Oh a dinner can be got much cheaper at most places in Boston,” said George Melville, smiling, “but I am used to Parker's, and generally come here.”

“I am glad it doesn't cost so much to live in Wayneboro,” said Herbert. “We couldn't afford even one meal a day.”

“You haven't asked me what the doctor said,” remarked Melville, as they left the dining room.

“Excuse me, Mr. Melville. It wasn't from any lack of interest.”

“He advises me to go West by the first of October, either to Colorado or Southern California.”

Herbert's countenance fell. The first of October would soon come, and his pleasant and profitable engagement with Mr. Melville would close.

“I am sorry,” he said, gravely.

“I am not so sorry as I should have been a few weeks ago,” said Melville. “Then I should have looked forward to a journey as lonely and monotonous. Now, with a companion, I think I may have a pleasant time.”

“Who is going with you, Mr. Melville?” asked Herbert, feeling, it must be confessed, a slight twinge of jealousy.

“I thought perhaps you would be willing to accompany me,” said Melville.

“Would you really take me, Mr. Melville?” cried Herbert, joyfully.

“Yes, if you will go.”

“I should like nothing better. I have always wanted to travel. It quite takes my breath away to think of going so far away.”

“I should hardly venture to go alone,” continued George Melville. “I shall need some one to look after the details of the journey, and to look after me if I fall sick. Do you think you would be willing to do that?”

“I hope you won't fall sick, Mr. Melville; but if you do, I will take the best care of you I know how.”

“I am sure you will, Herbert, and I would rather have you about me than a man. Indeed, I already begin to think of you as a younger brother.”

“Thank you, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, gratefully. “I am glad you do.”

“Do you think your mother will object to your leaving home, Herbert?”

“Not with you. She knows I shall be well provided for with you. Can I arrange to send money regularly to mother?” asked the boy. “I shouldn't like to think of her as suffering for want of it.”

“Yes, but to guard against emergencies, we can leave her a sum of money before you start.”

After dinner Mr. Melville proposed to Herbert to accompany him on a walk up Washington Street, They walked slowly, Herbert using his eyes diligently, for to him the display in the shop windows was novel and attractive.

At length they paused at the door of a large and handsome jewelry store—one of the two finest in Boston.

“I want to go in here, Herbert,” said his employer.

“Shall I stay outside?”

“No, come in with me. You may like to look about.”

Though Herbert had no idea of the cost of the fine stock with which the store was provided, he saw that it must be valuable, and wondered where purchasers enough could be found to justify keeping so large a supply of watches, chains, rings and the numberless other articles in gold and silver which he saw around him.

“I would like to look at your watches,” said Melville to the salesman who came forward to inquire his wishes.

“Gold or silver, sir?”

“Silver.”

“This way, if you please.”

He led the way to a case where through the glass covering Herbert saw dozens of silver watches of all sizes and grades lying ready for inspection.

“For what price can I get a fair silver watch?” asked Melville.

“Swiss or Waltham?”

“Waltham. I may as well patronize home manufactures.”

“Here is a watch I will sell you for fifteen dollars,” said the salesman, drawing out a neat-looking watch, of medium size. “It will keep excellent time, and give you good satisfaction.”

“Very well; I will buy it on your recommendation. Have you any silver chains?”

One was selected of pretty pattern, and George Melville paid for both.

“How do you like the watch and chain, Herbert?” said his employer, as they left the store.

“They are very pretty, sir.”

“I suppose you wonder what I want of two watches,” said Melville.

“Perhaps you don't like to take your gold watch with you when you go out West, for fear of thieves.”

“No, that is not the reason. If I am so unfortunate as to lose my gold watch, I will buy another. The fact is, I have bought this silver watch and chain for you.”

“For me!” exclaimed Herbert, intensely delighted.

“Yes; it will be convenient for you, as well as me, to be provided with a watch. Every traveler needs one. There; put it in your pocket, and see how it looks.”

“You are very kind to me, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, gratefully. “You couldn't have bought me anything which I should value more.”

When Herbert had arranged the watch and chain to suit him, it must be confessed that it engrossed a large part of his attention, and it was wonderful how often he had occasion to consult it during the first walk after it came into his possession.