"I should say it was. You couldn't lend me a couple of dollars, could you?" "I don't think I could." Tom looked disappointed. "How much do you get?" he asked. "Six dollars a week." "That's pretty good, for a boy like you. I wish you'd take a room with me. It would come cheaper." "I shall stay where I am for the present," said Grant. He did not care to mention, unless he were asked, that he was making his home at the house of Mr. Reynolds, as it might either lead to a call from Tom, whom he did not particularly care to introduce to his new friends, or might lead to a more pressing request for a loan. "Where are you boarding?" asked Grant, after a pause. "In Clinton Place. I have a room there, and get my meals where I like. There's a chap from your office that lives in the same house." "Who is it?" asked Grant, anxiously. "It's Willis Ford." "Is that so?" returned Grant, in surprise. "Do you know him?" "Only a little. I don't like him. He's too stuck up." Grant made no comment, but in his heart he agreed with Tom. "Are you doing anything?" he asked. "Not just yet," answered Tom, "I expect a good job soon. You haven't a quarter to spare, have you?" Grant produced the desired sum and handed it to his companion. He didn't fancy Tom, but he was willing to help him in a small way. "Thanks," said Tom. "That'll buy my supper. I'll give it back to you in a day or two." Grant did not think there was much likelihood of that, but felt that he could afford to lose this small sum. Four days later he met Tom in Wall Street. But what a change! He was