About ten o'clock in the forenoon Clarence Clayton entered the Somerset Hotel and looked about for the Orange County farmer. Clayton was clean shaved, his shoes were brilliantly polished, and there was a rose in his buttonhole.

"My dear old friend," he said, with effusion, as he espied Josiah Onthank sitting near the door, "I hope you are feeling in the best of health this fine morning."

"Thank you, Mr. Clayton. I feel pooty smart. Why, you're all dressed up. You look as if you'd just come out of a bandbox."

"Men in my position have to be particular about their appearance. Now if I was in the country I wouldn't care, but I have an appointment with Mr. Vanderbilt this morning, and, of course, I must be particular."

"Do you know Mr. Vanderbilt?" asked Mr. Onthank, considerably impressed.

"Intimately. I dined at his house last week."

Mr. Clayton took in with a quick glance the dress and outward appearance of his rustic friend. Mr. Onthank certainly did not look as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox. His clothing was dusty, and his shoes were innocent of blacking.

"My friend," he said, "if you will pardon the suggestion, it would be well to have your boots blacked."

"I didn't bring any blacking with me," responded the farmer. "Besides, I had 'em blacked last Sunday."

"As you are going to Wall Street, and may meet some of the prominent people of the city, it will be well to have them blacked this morning. Leave it to me. I will find a boy who will do it for a nickel."

"I always black my own boots when I am to home."

"In the city we employ bootblacks."

"Five cents seems pooty good pay for blackin' boots. It don't take more'n five minutes."

"Oh, well, the poor boys need the money. I look upon it in that light."

"To be sure!" and Mr. Onthank began to look upon his companion as a very kind-hearted man.

Out in the street they came upon a boy who was quite ready to undertake the job. Before he got through, however, he began to think there wasn't much profit in it. The farmer's shoes were of cowhide, and absorbed a great deal of blacking. Still the boy was an expert, and made them look better than they ever had before.

"That's worth a dime," he said.

"I won't pay it," declared the farmer. "Ten cents for blackin' a pair of boots! Why it's ridiculous!"

There might have been an angry discussion, but Clayton drew a dime from his pocket and put it into the boy's outstretched palm.

"Very likely he's got a mother to support," he said. "Besides, he's made your boots look fine."

"That's so," assented the farmer, looking complacently at the boy's work. "He seems to know his business. Mrs. Onthank would be surprised if she could see me now."

He walked along with unwonted pride, ever and anon glancing delightedly at his renovated boots.

"I can't make 'em look like that," he said. "They look better than they did when they was new, but ten cents is an awful price to pay."

They walked along Broadway till they reached Wall Street, down which they turned.

Mr. Onthank was considerably impressed by the tall and stately buildings on Broadway.

"Is your office near here, Mr. Clayton?" he asked.

"Yes, quite near."

Near the junction of Wall and New Streets Clayton led the way into a handsome office, occupied by a firm of well-known brokers.

"This is my office," he said. "Don't ask me any questions till we come out."

They entered the room, but many were entering, and no particular notice was taken of them.

"There's a sight of clerks," said the farmer. "You must do a big business."

"We do. Wait here a minute till I speak to my cashier."

He went up to a window, and in a tone inaudible to Mr. Onthank asked the price of a particular stock. Of course an answer was given, so that they appeared to be conferring together. Then he rejoined his Orange County friend, and they walked slowly to the end of the counter.

"Now we'll go out," said Clayton. "I have one or two calls to make on the street."

"Do you trust your clerks to do the work while you are away?"

"Oh, yes, they understand their duties. Things will go on like clockwork. You see we have a perfect system."

"You don't do business alone, do you?"

"No, there are several of us in the firm. I may say frankly that I only have one-fourth interest in the business. Still I am well paid, very well paid."

"I s'pose you have to pay a big rent."

"Ten thousand dollars a year."

"You don't say! Why, you can get a big store where I live for only twelve dollars a month."

"Very likely; but there is a good deal of difference between the country and the city. Now let us walk along Broadway, down to the Battery. We will sit down there, and I will tell you what I can offer your son."

In a few minutes they were sitting on one of the benches, looking out to Governor's Island.

"It's a great privilege to live in New York, Mr. Onthank. I think your son would enjoy it."

"I know he would. Why, Ephraim would give all his old boots to be at work here."

"If they were all cowhide boots like yours the offer wouldn't be very tempting," thought Clayton.

"Yes," he said, "I can easily believe it. May I ask what wages your son would expect."

"Well, I reckon twenty-five to thirty dollars a month would satisfy him."

"Twenty-five to thirty dollars a month! Why, my dear friend, what are you thinking of?"

"I thought he couldn't live in the city in good style for less," said the farmer, deprecatingly.

"Of course, of course, but you don't understand me. I wouldn't think of offering him less than seventy-five dollars a month, to begin with."

"Gosh! you don't mean it?" said the farmer, his eyes opened wide.

"Certainly I do. That is the minimum salary I pay my clerks."

"Why, Ephraim would feel as rich as a king with that salary. When can you make room for him?" he added anxiously.

"I must ask a few questions first. Has your son a fair education?"

"He attended the district school till he was fifteen."

"Then I suppose he is well up in the fundamental rules of arithmetic?"

"What's them?"

"I suppose he can add, subtract and multiply."

"Oh, yes."

"And write a fair hand?"

"He's pooty good at writin'."

"I presume he will do. Now, Mr. Onthank, I will tell you how I am placed. There will be a vacancy next week, but a merchant up town wants me very much to take his son. He will pay a liberal premium."

"What's that?"

"We always expect our clerks to pay a premium on entering our service. How much money have you brought with you?"

"I've got two hundred dollars in my wallet. But what has that to do with it?"

"A great deal, my friend. The premium must be paid down at once, and that guarantees your son the place."

"How much do you ask?"

"The merchant I refer to is willing to pay two hundred dollars, but between ourselves I don't favor engaging his son. I have been told that he drinks. I hope your son doesn't drink?"

"Ephraim drinks cider at Thanksgivin', but he never drinks anything stronger."

"I am glad to hear it. Intemperance is very objectionable in our business. Now about the premium. I will agree to take your son for a hundred and fifty dollars, though I have never before accepted less than two hundred."

"A hundred and fifty dollars is a good deal of money," said Ezekiel, cautiously.

"So it is, but think of the advantages. Think of his getting seventy-five dollars a month, to begin with. Why in six months I shall probably raise him to a hundred dollars a month."

Ezekiel Onthank was dazzled, and Clayton saw that he was. He felt that he had almost landed the fish for which he was angling.

"I guess I'll take a day to think on't," said the farmer.

"I would advise you to accept at once. The other party may get in ahead of you."

"Can't you give us the refusal of it for a day?"

"Really I don't see how I can."

"A hundred and fifty dollars is a good deal of money, and I want to think it over."

"My dear friend, I don't see the need of it. Such situations are not to be had every day. Why, the young man's salary the first year, supposing he were promoted in six months, would amount to over a thousand dollars. Deducting the premium, that would leave your son nearly nine hundred dollars. That's a good income, isn't it?"

"Yes, so 'tis. Why our minister only gets six hundred dollars a year, and he's a man of forty-odd."

"Exactly. You see what a brilliant prospect Ephraim will have. Really I ought to insist on the full premium of two hundred dollars."

Clayton did his utmost to induce the farmer to decide at once, but Mr. Onthank had promised Rupert not to do anything without talking the matter over with him, and he kept his word.

"Well," said Clayton, "I'll give in to you. I'll give you twenty-four hours to think over the matter, but of course I must ask you to pay me something for the favor. Give me five dollars on account of the premium, and you shall have a day to make up your mind."

This Mr. Onthank finally agreed to, and when the matter was settled they walked back to the Somerset Hotel.

"You had better not say much about our negotiation," Clayton advised, "till the matter is decided."