When Scott reached home he found Loammi still up.

"Did you go to Mr. Lawton's room?" the latter asked.

"Yes."

"What sort of a place does he live in—a tenement house?"

"No; he has a very good room in West Sixteenth Street."

"He will soon be out of money if he lives expensively."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he is evidently poor. Didn't you notice his clothes?"

"Yes, but I don't think he cares much about dress."

"I guess you're right there. Pa thinks he was a fool to come to New York. If he expects to fall back on pa when he has spent all his money, he'll be disappointed."

"I don't think he has any such expectations. He seems like an independent man. He fell in with an acquaintance from Michigan who is staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel."

Loammi looked surprised.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Quite a nice-looking man. He is a member of Congress."

"Then how does he happen to be in New York?" asked Loammi, incredulously.

"He is here on a little business. He goes back to Washington in two or three days."

"Did Mr. Lawton seem to know him well?"

"Yes; the congressman was very cordial."

"Politicians have to know everybody," remarked Loammi, after a pause. He found it difficult to conceive of "Cousin Seth" having any high-toned friends.

Scott took his lamp and went to bed. In his small chamber there was no gas jet, but this he did not mind. In England gas is not used as extensively as in the United States, and he was more accustomed to lamps or candles.

As he slowly undressed, he felt more cheerful than usual. It seemed pleasanter to have found a relative who appeared to like him. He could not feel toward Ezra Little or Loammi as if they were relations.

"I am very sorry Cousin Seth is not better off," he said to himself. "If he can't get a place in the city, I suppose he will have to go back to the West. I hope not, for I shall miss him."

The next day Seth Lawton came to the Eighth Avenue store, and found his way to the department where Scott was a salesman.

"What are you selling, Scott?" he asked, with a smile.

"Socks, Cousin Seth."

"I think I shall have to buy some, just to say that I have bought from you. What do you charge?"

"Here are some merino socks that we sell three pairs for a dollar."

"Pick me out three—No. 9½."

Scott did so, and Mr. Lawton handed him a five-dollar gold piece.

A cash boy was called, the goods and money were handed to him, and in due time the bundle and change were brought back.

Just then Mr. Little, who had been out to lunch, came back, and passing by the sock counter recognized Mr. Lawton.

"Good-morning, Ezra," said Seth. "You have a fine store."

"Quite fair, but not so large as some," returned Ezra Little. "I am cramped for room. I think of taking in the adjoining store next year."

"I suppose you are getting rich."

"Not so fast as I should like. Expenses are very large. How would you like to run a store like this, Cousin Seth?" he added, in a complaisant tone.

"Not very well. I might like to own it, but I don't think dry goods are in my line."

"I fancy not," said Ezra, in a tone of calm superiority. "It takes some business ability to run a large store."

"No doubt you have the necessary ability," observed Seth, with a smile.

"Well, I manage to do it."

"I hope Scott will be as successful as you have been."

"It isn't every one who works in a dry-goods store who rises beyond a salesman," returned Ezra Little, with a cold glance at Scott.

As the proprietor of the store passed on to his office, Seth Lawton said: "Have you been out to lunch, Scott?"

"Yes, Cousin Seth."

"I am sorry. I would have invited you to lunch with me."

"Thank you. Perhaps I can go some other day."

"Good-afternoon, then. Remember to-morrow evening."

"I won't forget."

On the way home from the store, Scott took the opportunity to speak of a new suit.

"Mr. Little," he said, "I am afraid I shall have to ask you for some new clothes."

"What's the matter with those you are wearing?" asked Ezra Little, coldly.

"The trousers are frayed around the bottoms, and the coat is getting faded."

"You seem to have high notions for a poor boy," continued his employer, in a tone of displeasure.

"I like to look neat," Scott answered, with spirit.

"You are as well dressed as most of the boys who work in the store."

"They are cash boys, while I am behind the counter. Besides, I don't ask you to pay out of your own pocket."

"That is just what I will have to do if I comply with your request."

"You have forty dollars of mine, Mr. Little; the money I handed you when I went into the store."

"You seem to forget that this is to pay the difference between what you receive—a home—and what you would get in any other store like mine."

"Don't you think I earn my board?" asked Scott, mortified.

"No, of course not. Did Mr. Lawton put you up to asking for new clothes?"

"He said he thought I needed some new ones."

"Just as I thought. It won't be long, probably, before he wants you to borrow money on his account."

"I don't think he will ask for any."

"You seem to know him well. On what do you base this opinion?"

"He seems to be too independent."

"In feeling, yes; but I don't think he has independent means."

"Then you are not willing to buy me new clothes, Mr. Little?"

"I will think it over, and let you know what I decide."

It was a trial to Scott to prefer his request, though it seemed to him necessary. Though his father had been poor, he had always been neatly dressed, and in a store he was subject to an unusual amount of scrutiny. He felt that his own money ought to be expended for what he needed.

Then, as to not earning his board, he knew that no salesman who sold as much as he did received less than eight dollars a week. It certainly did seem mean in Ezra Little to pay him less than his board.

What he should do if his application was denied he did not know. To be sure, he had enough left of the ten dollars he had recovered from Crawford Lane to buy a pair of trousers, but a new coat would be beyond his means.

During supper no reference was made to the subject, but as they were rising from the table, Mr. Little turned to his son and said: "How do you compare in size with Scott?"

"We are of about the same size."

In reality, Scott was two inches taller than his cousin, and probably as much larger in chest measure.

"So I thought," returned Mr. Little. "Scott thinks he needs some new clothes. Look over your suits, and see if you haven't one you can give him."

"Why should I give him my clothes, pa?"

"I will make it up to you."

"All right! Will you buy me a new suit?"

"Yes."

"Very well, then, I'm willing."

"You can go upstairs with Loammi," said Mr. Little, "and he will pick you out a suit that he has laid aside."

Scott flushed indignantly. He was not without pride, and it galled him to have his cousin's clothes turned over to him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Little," he said, "but I am taller and stouter than Loammi. I could not wear any of his cast-off suits."

"You mean you are too proud to do so," said Ezra Little, sharply.

"Perhaps I am, but at any rate they would not be large enough for me."

"That is an excuse."

"I will try on a suit, and let you see."

"Do so."

Scott went upstairs with his cousin, and put on a suit selected for him by Loammi, the poorest he had, and came downstairs.

The trousers were nearly two inches too short, and the coat was evidently too narrow across the shoulder.

"It seems to fit very well," said Ezra.

"Why, Mr. Little," exclaimed his wife, "it doesn't fit Scott at all."

"Then we will send it to a tailor and have it altered," said her husband.

Scott made no comment, but he made up his mind that he would get along with his old suit rather than wear his cousin's.