"I suppose not." "So I had to get something to do, or go back to Colebrook. I say, Grant---" "Well?" "Don't you tell any of the fellers at home what business I'm in, that's a good fellow." "I won't if you don't want me to," said Grant. "You see, it's only a few days till I can get something else to do." "It's a great deal better blacking boots than being idle, in my opinion," said Grant. "That's the way I look at it. But you didn't tell me what you came to the city for?" "I'm coming here for good," announced Grant. "You haven't got a place, have you?" ejaculated Tom, in surprise. "Yes, I am to enter the office of Mr. Reynolds, a stock broker. There is his sign." "You don't say so I. Why, that's just the sort of place I wanted. How did you get the chance?" "I got acquainted with Mr. Reynolds on board the cars that day we came to New York together." "And you asked him for the place?" "I asked him this morning." "You might have given me the chance," grumbled Tom, enviously. "You knew it was the sort of place I was after." "I don't think I was called upon to do that," said Grant, smiling. "Besides, he wouldn't have accepted you." "Why not? Ain't I as smart as you, I'd like to know?" retorted Tom Calder, angrily. "He heard us talking in the cars, and didn't like what you said." "What did I say?" "He doesn't approve of boys smoking cigarettes and going to bucket