Scott went with his uncle to the store the next morning. It was rather an humble imitator of the larger stores which keep everything for sale.

In any city but New York it would be considered a big store, but it could not, of course, compare with Macy's, Ehrich's, Simpson & Crawford's, and other large bazaars, equally well known. It followed the methods of these stores, however, and generally had some article in which special bargains were offered.

When Mr. Little led the way into the store, where from twenty-five to thirty salesmen were employed, besides cash boys and girls, Scott, who was not used to American shops, thought it a very large one, and his respect for Mr. Little increased, as a merchant on a large scale.

Ezra Little, followed by Scott, walked through the store and paused as he reached a tall man of about forty, with pretentious side whiskers.

"Mr. Allen," he said, "I have brought with me a new clerk. His name is Scott Walton, and he is a distant relative of mine. I suppose he has no experience, and I don't know whether he has any business capacity, but we will try him. Where can you make room for him?"

"In the handkerchief department, I think," replied the superintendent. "We have a drive in there, and there is more doing in that department than usual."

"Very well, give him the necessary instructions."

"Follow me, my boy," said the superintendent.

He led the way to the lower end of the store, where there was a large display of handkerchiefs, at prices ranging from five cents up to fifty.

"You can take your place at this counter," said Allen. "All the handkerchiefs are marked, so that you will have no trouble about the price. Take care that the different grades don't get mixed. It would not do, for instance, for a twenty-five cent handkerchief to get among the fifteen centers, or vice versa. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will give you a book, in which you will mark sales. When you have made one, call a cash boy and send the goods and money by him to the cashier's desk. It is rather lucky that Mr. Little brought you, as we are one clerk short. Mr. Cameron is absent on account of sickness."

Scott listened to these instructions with interest. He had never acted as salesman, but he felt instinctively that he had a taste for the work. He had a little feeling of exhilaration, as he felt he had been raised at once to a position of responsibility.

With mind alert and eyes on the lookout for customers, he began his work. He also watched his fellow clerks to see how they acted, and copied them as far as he was able.

Two things helped him. He had an agreeable, well-modulated voice and a very pleasant face, which seemed to attract customers. He soon found himself full of business, and bustled about like an experienced salesman.

From time to time the superintendent passed Scott's counter and glanced approvingly at the young salesman, who seemed so busy.

Meeting Mr. Little about noon, he said: "That boy is going to make a good salesman."

"Is he?"

"Yes; I have watched him carefully, and I can judge. He is a relation of yours, you say, Mr. Little."

"Yes; his mother was my cousin."

"Indeed! Is he an American?"

"No, he is an English boy."

"And you say he has never been in a store before?"

"Never, so he says."

"Then he is a born salesman."

"I am glad to hear it," said Ezra Little, indifferently. "He is penniless, and has his own way to make."

At twelve o'clock his uncle came up to the counter.

"Here is some money," he said. "You can go out and buy some lunch. We can't spare you to go home."

"Very well, sir."

"Mind you are not away more than half an hour."

"I suppose I shan't have to go far?"

"No, there is a place on the next block where you can buy what you need."

Scott put on his hat and left the store. He looked to see the amount of his lunch money. It was fifteen cents. This was not liberal, but he felt that he could make it do.

He joined another clerk, who guided him to a small place where, with his money, he was able to buy a cup of coffee, a sandwich and a piece of pie. His companion, who was a man of twenty-five, allowed himself a larger margin.

"Are you a new hand?" asked Mr. Sturgis, his fellow clerk.

"Yes, I only came in this morning."

"What are you in?"

"Handkerchiefs."

"They usually put beginners in that department. How'd you get the place?"

"Mr. Little is a cousin of my mother."

"Ah, that's it. Where do you live?"

"At his house."

"How do you like him?"

"I don't know him very well yet."

"I know him very well, for I have been here three years. There are not many who stay here so long—that is, in the store."

"Why not?"

"If you wasn't a relative, I'd tell you."

"I don't think that need prevent," said Scott, smiling.

"Well, Little has the reputation of paying very mean salaries. He is a very close-fisted man. How much does he pay you?"

"I get my board."

"How will you manage for clothes?"

"I don't know yet."

"Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. You look pretty well now, but Ezra Little won't clothe you in purple and fine linen."

"How is it you stay so long if the salaries are so poor?" was Scott's natural question.

"Well, I am well known and have a considerable trade of my own. I was once junior partner in a firm on Sixth Avenue, but we failed. By the way, Scott, how do you like your cousin, Loammi?"

"I am not in love with him," answered Scott, with a smile.

"We all dislike him here. He sometimes comes to the store, and puts on the airs of a boss."

At six o'clock the store closed for the day. On Saturday evenings it was kept open later. Scott did not accompany his uncle home, as Mr. Little had a little business that detained him.

It was about a mile to Forty-seventh Street, but Scott did not object to walking. It was pleasant for him after spending the day indoors to have a walk in the open air.

We will pass over a period of six weeks. Scott was no longer in the handkerchief department. He had been promoted to a more important position.

He still liked the business. The days passed quickly for him when trade was good. It was only when the weather was unpleasant and business dull that he found the time hang heavy on his hands.

He did not see much of Loammi. Though they lived in the same house they were not often together, except at meals.

Usually after supper, Loammi took a walk, but he never invited Scott to go with him. Once when Scott proposed to do so, his cousin declined the companionship curtly.

"I have a special engagement," he said. "I don't care for company."

After that Scott, who had his share of pride, kept to himself. He saw that Loammi looked upon him as a poor relation.

One evening when he returned from the store, he was surprised to have Loammi meet him just outside the door.

"I am glad you have come," he said. "There's an old frump inside who says he is a cousin of pa's. He is old and shabby, and I expect he wants to live on pa. It looks as if he would be overwhelmed with poor relations."

"I suppose he is a cousin of mine, too."

"Yes; for Heaven's sake, go in and keep him company. I'll introduce you."

"If he is a cousin of mother's, I shall be glad to know him."

"You can have him all to yourself. Goodness knows I never want to see him again."

Scott followed Loammi into the house, and into the reception room.

There on a sofa sat a small old man, whose clothing, though scrupulously clean, was worn and shabby. His face was wrinkled, but the expression was pleasant.

"I think I shall like him better than Mr. Little," thought Scott.

The time was coming when he would need a friend, and this old man was destined to play an important part in his future experiences.