whether he is your son, or your adopted son. What sort of a boy is he?"
"He is a very good boy, sir," answered André.
"Can he read and write?"
"Very well indeed, sir. The master of his school says he will take the medal at the close of the year."
"I shall discharge that puppy, and I want a good boy in his place. Send him to me at half past two this afternoon."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Checkynshaw. Perhaps I spoke too soon, sir; but I did not want a place for him till next vacation."
"Send him up, and I will talk with him," said the banker, imperatively and patronizingly, as he hurried out of the shop.
He was met at the door by a girl of fifteen, who modestly stepped out of the way to let the magnate pass. She was dressed very plainly, but very neatly, and in her hand she carried a tin pail. The loud talk of the barber's shop politicians and the coarse jests of rude men ceased as she walked behind the long line of chairs to that where André was at