But I'll do something--any kind of work--if I can get it." "I need someone to assist me in my correspondence," said Kenneth.

"Would you like to be my secretary ?" "Me, Mr.Forbes--me!" "Yes, Tom.

I'll pay you twenty dollars a week to start with, and more if you serve me faithfully.

And you'll board here, of course." Then Tom Gates broke down and began to cry like a child, although he tried hard to control himself.
"You--you must forgive me, Mr.Forbes," he said, penitently; "I--I've been without sleep for so long that I haven't any nerves left." "Then you must go to sleep now, and get a good rest." He turned to Beth.
"Will you see Martha," he asked, "and have her give Tom Gates a room ?" She went on her errand at once, and gradually the young man recovered his composure.
"I can do typewriting and stenography, Mr.Forbes," he said, "and I can keep accounts.

I'll serve you faithfully, sir." "We'll talk of all this by and by, Tom," replied Kenneth, kindly.