"That's just the sort of a place I'd like," said Duncan impulsively.

Then he laughed a little, uneasily. "I mean, I'm willing to take any position, no matter how insignificant. I mean it, honestly."

"This might suit you, then--"

"I wish you'd let me try it, sir."

"But you don't understand." Graham was serious enough now; there wasn't any joke in what he had to say. "To tell you the truth, I can't afford it. When your pay was due, I'm afraid I shouldn't have any money to give you."

Duncan dismissed this paltry consideration with a princely gesture. "I don't mind that part," he insisted. "Mr. Graham, if you'll teach me the drug business I'll work for you for nothing."

He said it earnestly, for he meant it just a bit more seriously than he himself realised at the moment; and I'm glad to think it was because Sam's serene and gentle, guileless nature had appealed to the young man. He had that in him, that instinct for decency and the right, that made him like this simple, sweet and almost childish old man at sight--like him and want to help him, though he was hardly conscious of this and believed his motive rather more than less selfish, that he was grasping at this opportunity for relief from the deadly ennui that oppressed him as madly as a famished man at a crust. Indeed, the boy was eager to deceive himself in this respect, with youth's wholesome horror of sentiment.

"Between you and me," he hurried on, "it's this way: I've been here for two weeks with nothing to do but look at a book, and it's got me crazy enough to want to work!"

But still I like to think it was for a better reason, that his conduct then bore out my theory that there are streaks of human kindliness and right-thinking in all of us--buried deep though they may be by many an acquired stratum of callousness and egoism: the sediment of life caking upon the soul....

But as for Sam, as soon as he recovered he shook his head in thoughtful deprecation. "Well, I swan!" he said. "I guess you must find it pretty slow down here. But"--brightening--"if you feel that way about it, I'd better take you over to Sothern and Lee's. They'd be glad to get you at the price."

"And in a week they'd think they were over-paying me," Duncan argued.

"No--I've been there. Why not try me on here?"

"Well, I'm just a little bit afraid you wouldn't learn much, my boy. I don't do business enough to give you a good idea of it. Sothern and Lee get all the trade nowadays."

"But look here, sir: don't you think if I came in here perhaps we could build up the business?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Graham deprecated, pursing his lips and rubbing the white stubble of his beard with a toil-worn thumb.

Duncan eyed him in bitter humour. "No, of course not. You're right--but somebody must have tipped you off."

Graham paid little heed, whose mind was bent upon his own parlous circ.u.mstances. "I haven't got capital enough to stock up the store," he explained; "that's the real trouble. Folks have got into the habit of going to the other store because I'm out of so many things."

"Well, to be sure," said Duncan, a little dashed; "you can't expect to do business unless you've got things to sell...."

"I don't expect it, my boy," Sam a.s.sented dolefully. "'Twouldn't be in reason.... You see," he added, hope lightening his gloom, "I'm working on an invention of mine, and if that should work out I'd get some money and be able to get a fresh stock. Then I'd be glad to have you."

Duncan brushed this impatiently aside. "How much business are you doing here now?"

"Some days"--Graham reckoned it on his fingers--"I take in a dollar or two, and some days... nothing.... There's my sody fountain," he said with a jerk of a thumb toward it: "got that fixed up a little while ago, and it's bringing in a little. Not much. You see, I need more syrups. I've only got vanilly now."

"Soda water!" Duncan jumped at the idea. "Hold on! All the girls round here drink soda, don't they?"

"Oh, yes," said Graham abstractedly.

The thought infused new life into the younger man's waning purpose.

"Mr. Graham, I wish you'd let me come in here for a while. I don't care about wages."

Graham lifted his shoulders resignedly. "Well, my boy, it don't seem right, but if you really want to work here for nothing, I'll be glad to have you; and if things look up with me, I'll be glad to pay you."

Abruptly he found his hand grasped and pumped gratefully.

"That's mighty good of you, Mr. Graham. When can I start?"

"Why... whenever you like."

In a twinkling Duncan's hat and gloves were off. "I'd like to, now," he said. "Where can we get more syrups?"

"Unfortunately... I'll have to buy them."

"How much?" Duncan's hand was in his pocket in an instant.

"Oh, no, you mustn't do that." Sam backed away in alarm. "I couldn't allow it, my boy. It's good of you, but..."

"Either," Nat told himself, "I'm asleep or someone's refusing to take money from me." He grinned cheerfully. "Oh, that's all right," he contended aloud. "I'll draw it down as soon as we begin to sell soda."

He selected a bill from his slender store. "Will five dollars be enough?"

"Oh, yes, but it wouldn't be right for me to--"

But by this time Duncan was pressing the bill into his hand.

"Nonsense!" he insisted. "How can we build up trade without syrup?"

"But--but--"

"And how can I learn the business without trade?" He closed Graham's unwilling fingers over the money and skipped away.

Sighing, Graham gave over the unequal argument. "Well, if you're satisfied, my boy.... But I'll have to write to Elmiry for it."

"Telegraph."

"Telegraph!" Graham laughed. "That'd kill Lew Parker, I guess."

"Who's he?"

"Telegraph operator and ticket agent."

"Well, he won't be missed much. Telegraph and tell 'em to send the goods C.O.D. Please, Mr. Graham. We want to get things moving here, you know; we've got to build up the business. We'll put out some signs and ... and ... well, we'll get the people in the habit of coming here somehow. You'll see!"

He raked the poverty-stricken shelves with a calculating eye, all his energy fired by enthusiasm at the prospect of doing something. Graham watched him with kindling liking and admiration. His old lips quivered a little before he voiced his thought.

"You--you know, my boy, you've got splendid business ability," he a.s.serted with whole-souled conviction.

Duncan almost reeled. "What?" he cried.

"I was just saying, you have wonderful business ability."

"You're the first man that ever said that. I wonder if it's so."

"I'm sure of it."