Had Scott spent all his salary he could not have been charged with extravagance, for ten dollars a week in a large city melts away, but he made it a matter of principle to save two dollars weekly. So at the end of a year he had one hundred dollars, and was fairly well clothed.

It was on the last day of the year that he received a summons to the office.

He answered it with some little trepidation, for it was possible that the firm had decided to dispense with his services.

"Take a seat, Scott," said Mr. Tower, pleasantly, when he entered the office. "I believe you have been with us for a year."

"Yes, sir."

"We are quite satisfied with you. You have shown ability as a salesman, and have taken an intelligent interest in the business. For this reason we are disposed to promote you."

"Thank you, sir," said Scott, much gratified.

"Though you are unusually young, we are disposed to try you on the road. How would you like that?"

"I should like nothing better."

"Your compensation, if you are successful, would be considerably greater than you are now paid. How much, will depend upon your success."

"I should be quite content with that arrangement, sir."

"We shall start you out probably within a week. One of our salesmen is sick, and we shall put you on his route. You will go to Cleveland and intermediate places. You will receive your instructions in due time."

"Thank you, sir."

Scott left the office much elated. He knew that there was no drummer employed by the firm less than twenty-three years of age, while he was barely eighteen. He resolved to succeed if success were possible, for he felt that this would give him an important position and an excellent income.

"How fortunate I did not stay with Cousin Ezra," he thought. "If I had probably I should not be receiving more than six dollars a week now."

Scott, as has already been said, boarded on Lexington Avenue. He occupied a small room, and paid but five dollars a week, but those who occupied the larger rooms paid in proportion to the accommodation enjoyed.

In the room just opposite to his lived a man of about forty, whom Scott had met more than once on the stairs but did not feel very well acquainted with.

Just after supper he was preparing to go out, when there was a knock at the door.

Opening it, he found that the caller was his opposite neighbor. He was looking pale and depressed.

"Can you lend me a few matches?" he asked.

"Certainly, Mr. Babcock; won't you step in and sit down?" said Scott, cordially.

The visitor hesitated, then said, slowly: "I will do so, but I shall not be very good company."

"I am glad of the chance of making your acquaintance," said Scott. "I have only seen you on the stairs heretofore."

"I don't think you will see much more of me," said the visitor, soberly.

"Why not? Are you intending to move away?"

"It is not exactly a matter of choice," said Babcock.

Scott could guess why, for his visitor was very poorly clad. His suit was frayed and rusty, and there were unmistakable marks of poverty about his whole appearance.

Scott felt delicate about speaking of this. He contented himself with saying: "I am sorry to hear it."

"The fact is," went on Babcock, with a sigh, "I am a failure, and have just begun to realize it."

"If you wouldn't mind telling me about it," said Scott, gently, "I can at least sympathize with you."

"Sympathy will be welcome. It is long since I have had any."

He paused, and presently continued:

"You must know that I am an inventor. I need say no more to satisfy you that I am a visionary and unpractical man."

"I don't know about that. There have been many successful inventors."

"And I might be one but for one unfortunate circumstance."

"What is that, sir?"

"I have used up all my money, and though the invention is perfected, I am unable to reap the benefit of it."

"Would you mind telling me the nature of your invention?"

"It is a window fastener. You may think it a trifle, but it is the small inventions which from their nature come into common use, and thus pay the best."

"I can understand that. How long have you been at work on your invention?"

"A year. I had a little money when I began, and it has supported me while I was at work. Now that the invention is perfected, I am without funds. I may as well be plain, and say that I cannot pay my next week's board."

"Couldn't you get some man with money to help you?"

"It is what I have been hoping for. In fact, I called yesterday on a prominent merchant, and laid the matter before him."

"Who was it, Mr. Babcock?"

"Ezra Little."

Scott looked surprised.

"He is a relative of mine," he said. "How did he treat you?"

"He listened to what I had to say, and promised to write to me. He did so. Shall I show you the letter?"

"If you are willing."

The inventor drew from his pocket a typewritten letter, and showed it to Scott. It ran thus:

"Mr. Henry Babcock.

"Dear Sir: I have thought over the small invention you showed me yesterday. I doubt if there is any money in it, but as I presume you are in want, I will give you thirty-five dollars for it. I can stand the small loss, and it will tide you over till you can get a position that will support you.

"Yours truly,
"Ezra Little."

"Mr. Little is not very liberal," said Scott, smiling.

"No," answered the inventor, bitterly. "Think of the year's labor I have spent upon it, and the prospect before me if I accept this paltry sum. With economy it would last me a month, and then what would become of me?"

"True; but there are other men besides Mr. Little, who might perhaps deal with you more generously."

"You are right, but I don't think you understand my position. My available funds are reduced to two dollars. Sometimes in my desperation I have thought I would go down to Brooklyn Bridge, and end it all. I think I should have done so but for one thing."

"What is that?" asked Scott, beginning to show a strong personal interest in his unfortunate visitor.

"I have a little daughter—four years old. I must live for her."

"Yes, you must live for her and yourself, too. You may yet be successful."

"Do you perhaps know of some capitalist?" asked the inventor, eagerly.

"I know of a gentleman who is well supplied with money, and I will lay the matter before him. Meanwhile, as you need the money, accept this loan."

Scott drew from his pocket two five-dollar bills and tendered them to Mr. Babcock.

"You have given me new life and new hope," said the inventor, his pale face brightening. "Who is the gentleman?"

"A Mr. Wood—Justin Wood. He lives at the Gilsey House, and he has been very kind to me. In fact, I owe the position I hold to him."

"Is he—a practical man? Would he see the possibilities of my invention?"

"I can't say, but out of regard to me he would give it consideration."

"When can we see him? Excuse my impatience, but you can understand how much it means to me."

"I do, Mr. Babcock, and I will therefore go with you to his hotel this very evening, though we may possibly not find him in."

"If you will be so kind I will get ready at once."

In five minutes they were on their way to the Gilsey House.