ben set out for boston on monday morning in very good spirits. his

aunt shed a few tears at parting. she was apt to take depressing

views of the future, and said; "i hope you'll prosper, ben," in a tone

which implied that she did not think there was more than one chance

in ten of his success. but ben understood his aunt, and did not allow

her presentiments to weigh with him. his motto was still, "wait and

hope."

ben found himself seated beside a young man of pleasant appearance, who was attracted by our hero's frank and manly look.

"i suppose you are going to boston," he said.

"yes," answered ben readily.

"have you got a place there?"

"i am going to have," said ben cheerfully.

"do you mind telling where?"

"oh, no," said ben; "i am going to the store of jones & porter."

"indeed! there are very prominent business men."

"i suppose they are," said ben.

"do you know them personally?"

"i don't know them at all. i think some friend of mine must have mentioned me to them."

"it's rather singular that i shouldn't know anything about your engagement," said the young man.

"why should you?" inquired ben, in natural surprise.

"the fact is, i am mr. porter's nephew, and am a salesman in the establishment," said the young man. he drew from his pocket a business card, bearing the name.

henry w. porter

with jones and porter

ben was rather disturbed, and he thought: "can there be anything wrong?"

he said aloud: "i don't see how there can be any mistake. i received a letter from jones & porter last week, offering me the place."

ben took the letter from his pocket and handed it to the young man.

the latter ran his eye over it hastily. he examined the signature and the address, and said quietly "i don't think this letter came from our store."

ben felt as if the earth had opened before him.

"i don't understand it," he said, his face very red. "if the letter isn't genuine, who could have written it?"

"it seems written in a schoolboy hand," said young porter. "isn't it possible that some one may be playing a practical joke on you?"

"it wouldn't be much of a joke to me," said ben.

"i should call it a mean trick myself," said porter; "but can't you think of any one who may have written it?"

"i'll bet it's sam archer."

"and who is sam archer?"

"he is the meanest boy in milltown," said ben.

"doesn't he like you? isn't he one of your friends?"

"no, he does all he can to injure me. but"—here ben examined the letter a second time—"this isn't his handwriting."

"that proves nothing. he probably sent it to some confederate in boston to copy and mail to you."

"don't you think there is any chance of its being genuine?" asked ben.

"the chance is very slight; but it is well, of course, to make sure. i have been away to pass sunday, and shall go to the store at once on my arrival. you can go with me. i will introduce you to my uncle."

"if it is a trick," said ben uncomfortably, "i shall be in an awkward fix."

"whether it is a trick or not, you can count on my friendship," said young porter kindly.

"thank you," said ben gratefully.

about an hour later ben and his new friend entered the large and handsome bookstore of jones & porter.

young porter, as he walked through the store, received the greetings of his fellow clerks.

"have you adopted a boy?" asked one facetiously.

"yes," said porter, smiling. "where is my uncle?"

"he is in the back office."

"all right! come along, ben."

henry porter kept on his way till he reached the back part of the store, where a good-sized office was partitioned off. mr. porter was writing at a desk.

"good morning, uncle," said ben's companion.

"good morning, henry. have a good time?"

"excellent, uncle. let me introduce to your favorite notice master benjamin bradford, of milltown."

mr. porter did not consider it beneath his dignity to be polite even to a boy.

"i am glad to see you, my young friend," he said, rising and offering his hand to ben. "are you on a visit to the city?"

poor ben! his heart sank within him. evidently mr. porter would not ask such a question of a boy whom he had engaged to work for him.

the young man saw his embarrassment and answered for him.

"that's rather an odd question to ask you new clerk, uncle," he said.

"my new clerk, henry? i don't understand you."

"ben, show your letter."

"that is a forgery," said the uncle rather indignantly.

poor ben! manly as he was, he felt ready to cry.

"i am sorry," he said faltering.

"have you any idea who wrote it?" asked mr. porter.

"yes," answered ben. "it's sam archer."

"in fun?"

"no, in spite. he is always glad to injure me."

"what can be his motive?"

ben explained his relations with sam.

"do you need the position?" asked mr. porter.

"yes, sir, i am poor, and can ill afford the money i have spent in coming to boston. sam knows this, and it is mean for him, a rich boy, to fool me so."

mr. porter was a kind-hearted man. more than once he had kept on a clerk whom he did not need.

"go into the store a minute, my boy," he said, "while i speak with my nephew."

of course ben obeyed.

"what do you think of this boy, henry?"

"i think very favorably of him. he seems honest and straightforward, and i think he is smart."

"i like his looks myself; i wish we had a vacancy."

"we shall have very soon."

"to whom do you refer?"

"frank robinson is going to leave at the beginning of next month. his father thinks it will be better for him to go to school a year or two longer."

"so you would recommend hiring this boy?"

"yes, sir; i have so good an opinion of him that i am quite willing to guarantee him. if you will take him on immediately, i will myself pay his wages till the end of the month, when robinson leaves."

"bravo, henry! that shows a kind heart. i won't accept that, but will give you leave to help him outside as much as you please."