Fred made a short trip the next day, and returned home at four o'clock. He was glad to be back so early, as it gave him time to prepare for his evening visit. Naturally his mind had dwelt upon it more or less during the day, and he looked forward to the occasion with pleasant anticipations. The broker's gracious manners led Fred to think of him as a friend.
"I would like to be in the employ of such a man," he reflected.
He started from home in good season, and found himself on the broker's steps on the stroke of eight.
The door was opened by the same servant as on the evening previous, but he treated Fred more respectfully, having overheard Mr. Wainwright speak of him cordially.
So when Fred asked, "Is Mr. Wainwright at home?" he answered "Yes, sir; come right in. I believe as you are expected."
The old man was descending the stairs as Fred entered, and immediately recognized him.
"Ha, my young friend!" he said. "I am glad to see you," and he held out his hand.
"I hope you are feeling better, sir," said Fred respectfully.
"Oh, yes, thank you. I feel quite myself to-day. It was the length of the journey that upset and fatigued me. I couldn't travel every day, as you do."
"No, sir, I suppose not now; but when you were of my age it would have been different."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"And I am seventy-one, the same figures, but reversed. That makes a great difference. Come in here; my nephew will be down at once."
The train boy followed the old gentleman into the handsome drawing-room, and sat down on a sofa feeling, it must be owned, not quite as much at home as he would have done in a plainer house.
"Did you make much to-day?" asked Silas Corwin (that was his name) in a tone of interest.
"No, sir, it was a poor day. I only sold three dollars' worth."
"And how much did that yield you?"
"Sixty cents. I have a commission of twenty per cent."
"What was the most you ever made in a day?"
"I took in thirteen dollars once--it was on a holiday."
"That would give you two dollars and sixty cents."
"Yes, sir."
"Very good indeed!"
"If I could keep that up I should feel like a millionaire."
"Perhaps happier than a millionaire. I have known millionaires who were weighed down by cares, and were far from happy."
Fred listened respectfully, but like most boys of his age found it impossible to understand how a very rich man could be otherwise than happy.
At this point Mr. John Wainwright entered the room.
"Good evening, my boy!" he said cordially. "I won't apologize for being late, as my uncle has no doubt entertained you."
"Yes, sir; he was just telling me that millionaires are sometimes unhappy."
"And you did not believe him?"
"I think I should be happy if I were worth a million."
"You might feel poorer than you do now. I knew a millionaire once--a bachelor--who did not venture to drink but one cup of coffee at his breakfast (he took it at a cheap restaurant) because it would involve an added expenditure of five cents."
"Was he in his right mind, sir?"
"I don't wonder you ask. I don't think a man who carries economy so far is quite in his right mind. However, he was shrewd enough in his business transactions. But now tell me something about yourself. Are you alone in the world?"
"No, sir; I have a mother and little brother."
"Are they partly dependent upon you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you make enough to support them comfortably?"
"I can in the summer, sir, but in the winter my earnings are small."
"How small?"
"Not over four dollars a week."
"That is certainly small. Do you like your present employment?"
"I am getting tired of it," answered Fred. "I should be glad to find a place where I can have a chance to rise, even if the pay is small."
"What do you think of going into a broker's ............
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