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Show continued from part 1 The firm of McAllister, Rogers & Co. was counted among the strongest in the city. The partners were all cautious, substantial business men, and whatever went through their hands was expected to be a success. Nevertheless, a dull time affected them as well as others, and when business was slack, they were among the first to retrench. "We can spare at least one clerk," said the senior member of the firm, in consultation with his partners, "and I suppose it must be either Foster or Arnot." "We can't spare Foster," replied Mr. Rogers. "He knows the business, already, almost as well as I do. And he's sharp as a needle; nobody will ever get ahead of him." "Not too sharp for our good, you think?" "No, indeed; I would trust him to any extent." "Very well; no doubt you are right. Let it be so then. But Arnot must go." That evening Henry Arnot, walking homeward, with the words of his dismissal yet ringing in his ears, heard a rapid step behind him, and a hand was laid on his shoulder. "What's your hurry, Arnot? Are you walking for a wager?" asked Edgar Foster's voice. "I may as well walk; I've nothing else to do," replied the young man, bitterly. "Oh, now, my dear fellow, don't be downhearted. Something will open for you, before very long, I hope. I am truly sorry for you Arnot, and would do anything to help you." "I know you would, Foster; but there's nothing to be done. If it were not for mother and Nellie, I wouldn't complain, but"-"Yes, I know. But keep up your courage, and don't look so woe begone. Mr. McAllister will speak a good word fore you, I am sure, and with his recommendation you may find something very soon." Henry shook his head, but his face was brighter, and when their ways parted his hearty "good night" sounded almost cheerful. Walking on alone, Edgar was accosted by an elderly gentleman. "Good evening, Foster. Are you still with McAllister & Rogers? If so, you can save me a little time, which is precious, just now. "I am still with them, sir. What can I do for you?" "Just pay in this little amount for me, if you please. It's only a trifle, but it's not on their books, and I am so shockingly forgetful that I fear it will slip my mind entirely. I want to get everything settled up before I start off, and I find it takes a great many steps to get ready for a three years' absence from the country." "Certainly, I'll attend to it for you, Mr. Sterling. So you are going abroad?" "Yes, with Wednesday's steamer. Well, I'm glad I have this little item off my mind. Good bye." Edgar Foster folded the bills away in his pocketbook with the full intention of handing them to his employers in the morning. The early mail, which was delivered soon after he reached his place of business brought him an urgent demand for the payment of a dentist's bill that had been standing against him for a few months. "I'll call in and pay it on my way home this noon," resolved Edgar. "This money of Mr. Sterling's will come handy, for pay day is less than a week off, and I can just as well hand it in after that." But Edgar's salary was small, and pay day brought almost as many ways for the money to go as there were dollars in the sum received. And, after all, what was the hurry? It was only a small amount, the firm did not expect the money, and they were lucky to get it at all. So he reasoned, and so it went on, until several pay days had passed, and Edgar when he thought of the matter at all felt the difficulty of paying over the money after so long a delay, without making some explanation. One morning, some five months after the evening that he had walked home with Henry Arnot, he noticed, when he took the letters in to Mr. McAllister, a thin blue envelope among them, which bore a foreign postmark. Mr. McAllister saw it too, and immediately drew it out from the pile that his clerk laid on the desk before him. "Ah, here's news from Sterling at last. I thought the old gentleman had forgotten us; he is so terribly forgetful." Edgar's heart gave one great bound, and then stood still. "What is the matter?" asked Mr. McAllister, noticing that the young man did not move to go back to his duties. "Why Foster, you are as white as a sheet. Are you ill? Don't stir until you are better." Edgar obeyed, with the despairing conviction that he was condemning himself in advance. But, not to save his life, or his reputation, which was dearer, could he have acted differently. Mr. McAllister took up his letter again, and after a hasty glance at it, turned to his partner with a laugh. "What a pattern of integrity Sterling is! Here he has sent us fifteen dollars which, he says, he forgot to pay before he went to Europe. I remember the circumstance, now that he recalls it. It was a little transaction between him and myself, and I made no record of it at the time. It seems that last is what has troubled him, and quickened that treacherous memory of his." "And if you don't send him a receipt, and set his conscience at rest, he'll forget all about this, and pay the money twice," returned Mr. Rogers. "Very likely; I'll do it at once. You're better, aren't you, Foster? Your color is coming back. Don't overwork yourself, man. We don't want to see you break down yet." "It was a narrow chance," said Edgar to himself, when he was once outside the door of the counting-room. "Of course, I can never pay that money now; but I'll take good care not to get in such a fix again." |